


Hopeless Hearts Just Passing Through

by hopeinyourheart



Series: Palace [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, LFC, Liverpool F.C., M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Build, Smut, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, more characters will get added as this progresses, tags will be updated as this progresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 22:58:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13623270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeinyourheart/pseuds/hopeinyourheart
Summary: Loris is cool dammit, he wears ripped jeans and has two sleeves of tattoos, he parties in Ibiza until the early hours of the morning, cool people do not freak out over smiles, thank you very much and oh shit Emre is saying something why can't his brain keep up.The soulmate AU where everyone is emotionally constipated, footballers are still footballers and Daniel Sturridge is everyone's spirit animalAlso the AU where soul-marks aren't visible until you've been kissed by the right person





	1. You're That One I Can't Ignore

**Author's Note:**

> This follows the 16/17 and 17/18 Liverpool season starting from when Loris joined in July of 2016 and follows the games throughout the season and the preseason of the 17/18 season 
> 
> Set after the euros 
> 
> A lot of this stuff actually happened, well not the shippy stuff but I'll put links to the real things at the bottom 
> 
> I'll post warnings and things as we go if there is any 
> 
> This entire work is complete and will be updated.

Loris meets Emre in late July in America where the sun shines too bright, makes his training gear stick to his skin in uncomfortable ways and nearly melts the too much gel in his hair.  

He watches Emre hug and kiss and cling to his teammates, watching his eyes light up when he laughs and the shine in his hair from the too much product as the sun bounces of it. He looks happy, nothing like the solemn on his face after the defeat in the euros. The happiness looks better on him, suits him better, Loris observes. He watches as Emre makes the rounds, a long hug with the boss; leading to a talk that ends in a laugh, he cuddles Phil and Dejan, the latter trying to muse his hair which Emre  swerves like an expert; like this has happened too many times to count, but the smile doesn’t sway and the light stays in his eyes.  

Loris knew Emre from the youth teams but he never really met him, they never spoke not really, different friends and groups meant they never actually interacted, so this was the first time Loris really _sees_  Emre. Emre  greets the new boys with a handshake and a nod of the head and then he makes his way over to Loris at the far end of the pitch, (already getting to work because impressing a new manager is at the fore front of his mind right now) and sticks his hand out for Loris to shake. Loris stops what he is doing (which was previously staring at Emre across the pitch (but damn it if he's going to let Emre know he was staring him out) so he started acting like he was setting up the training gear), and he takes Emre's hand and shakes it. Emre smiles all teeth and wrinkles near his eyes and Loris thinks there's something wrong with his heart **.**  

Emre introduces himself and so does Loris and then he skips of down the pitch and Loris thinks if he really wants to impress anyone at all at this club, he better start training.  

* 

Loris wakes up with a searing pain in the middle of his chest at 2;15 in the morning. It jolts him awake in a cold sweat and thundering heartbeat; he's never felt anything like this before. It reminds him of the sharp pain of getting a tattoo but this was more intense and every nerve ending felt like it was on fire. He stumbles his way into the bathroom and splashes cold water on his face. Was there something wrong with his heart? The pain was immense and he's on the verge of panic before he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror.  

Squinting against the harsh lights of the bathroom at some horrific hour in the morning, Loris sees a stark bold '23' etched into his skin between the wings of his swallow tattoo. The one on the left side of his chest.  

 _Shit._  Shit, shit. Shit. 

A soulmate mark. What was he going to do? He leans back against the counter, trying to regain his breath and process what was happening.  _Twenty three? ,_ he thinks. The last thing he needed right now was having to figure out who his soulmate was, he didn’t have the time, he had to club to play for, fans to impress.  

Stumbling back to bed he has absolutely no clue what he was going to do about this. He lies there staring at the ceiling for a while, pain ebbing away into nothingness, looks down and tracing his eyes over it. _I have a soulmate_ he thinks to himself, with a small smile, half in disbelief and shook, the other half happy. He thought about it but it never crossed his mind, that it would actually happen to him. That there would be a person out there that was his, to love. It scared him, but the thought that there was someone made just for him soothed him a little. 

He traces over the mark again, wondering who they were, his mind drifting off to the day he had and training earlier. Emre's smile crosses his mind, his big palm in his own, Loris smiles to himself and the mark throbs under his skin violently as he presses down to soothe the ache.  

 _Shit. Oh fuck,_ he says to the ceiling. 

Twenty-three as in Emre Can's squad number. The mark throbbed again almost like it was answering him.  

Loris is lying in a foreign hotel room with a club he's just joined; with a soulmate mark.  

Emre Can's soulmate mark. 

He is absolutely on the verge of freaking out.  

What was he going to do? How does he tell a man he just met, he might be his soulmate. He doesn’t think it's a normal breakfast conversion to have with a stranger. And what if the other man didn’t even have a mark. Or had a mark not related to him. His thoughts run at fifty miles per hour until he realises it's three am and decides the best course of action right now is to get to bed because he had training in the morning and dammit if he was going to set a bad example.  

Life changing soulmate mark or not.  

* 

Preseason is cut short when he breaks his hand.  

He sits on the medical table and he knows it's bad, is only confirmed when they tell him he has to have surgery and his flight back to Liverpool is tomorrow morning. He packs his bags and sleeps through the night with a sadness in his chest that he can't shake and a pain in his hand. His chance to get to know his teammates is over, his chance to prove himself and establish himself is over and he doesn’t know how long he is going to be out.  

The lads are all in the hotel lobby the next morning to say goodbye, he hugs each one of them, because even if he hasn’t known them long they still treat him like family, and Loris' realises that’s exactly what they are and he finds himself smiling at the thought. Loris hugs Emre, realises his time getting to hang out with him has been shortened which makes his chest tight but Emre smiles and tells him to text before the surgery and then he's ushered to a cab and to the airport and before he knows it they will land in a rainy Liverpool, due to get his hand fixed.  

He doesn’t tell anyone about the soulmate mark, he doesn’t really what to do if he's being honest. He knows people have soulmates, knows they get marks in different ways, heard all the stories when he was young but never really cared. The only thing he wanted to talk about as a child, was being a footballer, getting advice and praise, never paying attention to all the talks and stories and now he hasn’t a clue what he was supposed to do. 

He spends the entire plane ride wondering if Emre also has a soul mark, wondering if its his, and if it is is it also the number of his jersey; _could it be something else?_ He wishes he paid more attention as a child because now he's worrying if this man he met only yesterday has someone else's soul mark, and finds himself hating the thought. 

It makes his chest tight. Makes the mark throb in pain.  

He doses of to sleep and doesn’t wake until they land in a rainy Liverpool. 

* 

Loris pushes the soul mark to the back of his mind and focuses and recovery. 

The lads return from America to get ready for the season. Loris continues rehab on his hand and watches his team beat Arsenal in the first game of the season and is sad he couldn’t be there to help them.

Emre comes over after the games to crash on his couch and eat his food, because  _'I haven't been grocery shopping Loris, shut up'_ which is a lie. Loris knows because Emre is a very organised person and he knows when to buy groceries. But hey if it means Emre is going to hang out at his place, with his feet up on Loris' coffee table, his shoes in the hall and his jacket strewn across the chair like he owns the place, well Loris isn't going to complain. 

When he does that, hangs around in Loris' new apartment, lounging around in his space, it makes the apartment feel more like home which ultimately makes it tremendously hard for Loris to forget about the twenty-three written on his chest. He doesn’t ever really forget about it but not thinking about it makes it easier.  

Easier to hang out with Emre as just friends. 

However, Emre spends a lot of his time with Loris. He showed Loris around the city when he returned from America, showed him all the good places to eat and how to get to places, showed him the best places to shop and took him to the docks, let him get to know the city and fall a little bit in love with it. Loris explored a bit of it alone but it was much more fun with Emre driving him around, leaning back in the driver's seat all cool and laid back, telling him things he did in America and some of the dumb things the German lads did at the euros, watches that light shine up in his eyes when he talks about something he particularly loves. 

Loris has come to love that look, it does something funny to his heart but when Emre turns his eyes on him and looks at him like that and tells him things that don’t really matter, Loris feels likes he drowning. 

The mark throbs under his skin.  

* 

Time in Liverpool is rough; a new city, language and people taking their toll. Everything is new and football is different here, the style, the tactics, the pressure. He's playing for a world-famous club and people are starting to recognise him which sometimes bugs him and his friendship with Emre is all over the top banter and a tiny bit of flirting at least on Loris' part. He finds himself missing Germany after things go downhill. He wants to retreat away for a while and spend some time in his home country where things aren't foreign but just right.

He wants the comfort of home.  

But then Emre will call and tease him about things that don’t even matter in that German drawl and deep voice and more often than not he finds himself smiling and replying with his own little bit of banter. 

Emre gets called up for the national team a lot and Loris is ecstatic for him, wants the world to see how good Emre is and for him to represent his country but he can't lie and say he isn't he at least a tiny bit happy when he doesn’t get called up one time because now Emre can fly off to Dubai with him and meet his friends. 

It's brilliant.  

* 

Loris realises that Emre looks way to good in yellow shorts and maybe this was a bad idea after all. Because damn does he look exceptional in those and Loris cannot be doing this right now. They are teammates, there are lines, ones he shouldn’t be crossing. At least that’s what he tries to convince himself of as the night progresses and he ends up on the deck of a yacht where Emre is standing against the railing under the night sky. He looks so good, stood with his arms stretched over the metal bars, shirtless, with his hair slicked back and a sheen on his skin from the heat. Loris makes his way over leaning his back against the railing and stares up at the clear night sky.

It's dark but the night is stuffy and humid; the sticky heat and alcohol creating a fuzz in his brain, which is probably why he ends up staring at Emre flat out instead of trying to hide his obvious crush.  

 _Shit, I have a crush on Emre Can._  

 _What am I doing_. He can't do this. Emre might be his soulmate but he doesn’t know if he's Emre's. Emre has never mentioned anything about it and Loris figures he really doesn’t want to know if Emre has someone else's mark because the thought makes him want to choke on his own breath. He takes another sip of beer, willing himself to calm down and come back to earth before he does something stupid.  

Emre smirks at him and Loris smiles back over his beer bottle and his fuzzy brain gets a little giddy because he's on a yacht in Dubai at some horrendous hour of the morning with his best friend who he realises he's crushing on like a thirteen-year-old, all while said best friend walks around with his tan skin and perfect hair.  

This is too much for him to handle.  

It's quiet, up there on the deck, just the dull thump of music from inside the yacht and the water moving peacefully beneath them. He looks up at the stars and wills himself not to lean over a kiss his best friend.  

* 

The trip to Dubai soon ends and Loris still hasn’t said a word. Training resumes and he's glad to be back. The season progresses. Some games end in tears, others end in the lads partying all night. The Christmas period crashes on them so fast and hard that they find it hard to keep up but the Christmas party keeps spirit's high. 

The Brazilians make it their mission to get a picture with every single person in attendance, Loris has no clue how they even manage it but he finds himself in the middle of a picture between Alberto, Phil and Bobby. Those three are the life of the party.

The night progresses and Loris drinks a lot, people watches, dances with Adam and Studge, though no one can dance like Studge and soon there's a Bobby and Studge dance off, which makes the night even better.  

Emre is also there, in skin tight black jeans and a t-shirt. Loris doesn’t realise he's staring until Emre makes his way over and smiles one of those smiles and Loris has a hard time thinking.  

Loris is cool dammit, he wears ripped jeans and has two sleeves of tattoos, he parties in Ibiza until the early hours of the morning, cool people do not freak out over smiles, thank you very much and oh shit Emre is saying something why can't his brain keep up. 

"Huh," he asks bewildered. 

"Why aren't you listening to me Loris am I that boring", Emre asks him, taking a sip of beer as he leans against the bar. 

“Yeah, you are say something interesting and I'll think about listening to you drone on,” Loris says watching Emre gulp the beer down, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. 

"Ha-ha your hilarious", Emre replies, sarcasm coating his every word. "Besides I asked if you want to get out of here but since I'm so boring I'll leave u to it," Emre tells him getting ready to walk away as Loris replies with "Get over yourself bro, also yeah let's go.” 

They make their way out of the crowded club where people are still cheering on Roberto and Daniel and it looked like Alberto wanted to get involved and Loris just knows that is going to be hilarious. The air is cold and stings his once warm skin. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shivers against the gust of wind. The cold air grounds him, making his mind clearer after the fuzziness of the alcohol and flashing lights. He takes in the fresh air as he leans against a wall letting the cool brick sink into his warm stuffy skin.  

Emre calls a cab and they finally stumble into Emre s apartment at 2:15 in the morning, both tipsy and giddy as they make their way into the kitchen where Emre hands Loris a beer. They lean on each other against the kitchen counter and suddenly Loris is hyper aware of every movement they both make. He can feel Emre’s heat through his clothes and his own body seems like it's catching fire. The mark starts throbbing again and he wonders why it does that, what does it mean. He seriously needs to start asking some questions and get some answers about this stuff. 

Loris' hand itch to reach over and touch, he wants to feel Emre under his fingertips and the desire to do so is so strong it aches,he needs to breathe. There isn't enough air and he can't be this close to his best friend anymore so he moves away before he loses all control completely.  

Emre looks over at him, his eyes are shining and tired and drunk hazed and Loris' heart stops a little because those eyes are beautiful and ok he needs to stop staring at him like this.  

"I should head home," he says into the quiet. 

"It's late, crash in the guest room," Emre offers, placing the empty beer bottle on the counter.    

"Alright, if you insist and only if you put the heating on, its freezing." 

"You're so demanding, I take back my offer go home," Emre says, shaking his head.  

"No, you can't take back an offer, it's against the rules," Loris demands. 

Emre shoves him, so Loris shoves him back which leads to a scuffling fight ending with Loris clinging to Emre's back for some apparent reason. 

"What are you doing Lo?" Emre grunts.  

"It’s a survival technique, and I'm winning." 

"It's stupid." 

"Well it's not, because now you can't reach me so I win. It's cold in here I'm using you for your body heat," Loris tells him, clinging to his back, too drunk and giddy to understand his actions.  

"I'm gonna dump u on the floor." 

"Whatever, you're all talk mate." 

"Yeah yeah whatever, don’t expect me to carry you up the stairs idiot", Emre tells him trying to shake the weight, but Loris has his legs around his waist and his arms around his shoulders, like a child. 

"Whyyyy, you're so lazy Emre," Loris whines in his ear, dragging the words out.  

"Well your heavy and tipsy and it ain't even that cold. What am I to you? Your personal heater?" Emre asks as Loris untangles himself from the piggy back stance he had around Emre, his feet clattering to the ground clumsily, grabbing Emre's t-shirt and the counter alike to get his balance. Once he finds his feet, Loris walks around him, sticking his tongue out at Emre like a petulant child, "Are you three years old Loris? What are you doing?" Emre asks him in a tone that indicates he's amused but also done with Loris' shit for one night. 

He ignores Emre as he clambers his way clumsily up the stairs, Emre on his heels claiming it's because, "You're a clutz Loris, the last thing I need right now is you falling down the stairs in your tipsy state and me having to deal with you crying over nothing for the next three days."  

"Shut up Emre." Loris giggles as he makes his way into the bedroom because Emre always claims he doesn’t care but, really, he cares too much, besides Loris wasn’t going to fall down the stairs and Emre knew it.  

Loris can see right through his shit. 

Emre says ' _goodnight'_ as he walks to his own room while Loris says ' _see you in the morning'_ as he climbs into a cold bed, in his best friend's house, across the hall from his soulmate. The mark throbs again as he's falling asleep. He presses down on the skin to soothe it as he drifts off. 

He's falling in love with his best friend. 

He has no idea how to tell him he's his soulmate.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loris has two swallows on his chest and he really did break his hand in his first preseason meaning he was out for a while,  
> [This is the Dubai pic](http://loriskariius21.tumblr.com/post/153032175553/emre-and-loris-on-holiday-together)  
> Thanks so much for reading, concrit and comments are welcome xx


	2. I found love where it wasnt supposed to be (right in front of me)

Loris wakes with a throbbing headache in the morning as he groans against the sunlight shining in through the windows. He thanks all the deities out there that there is no training today because he doesn’t even have the strength to pull the covers over his head.  

He lies in bed for another half an hour, crossing the line between sleep and consciousness several times before he fully awakes and checks the time. The bright screen of his phone makes his head ache in protest, hating himself for not using his watch. Its eleven o clock which he figures isn't too bad after he spent the night partying and obsessing over a certain someone. 

After brushing his teeth, he stumbles downstairs, and either Emre isn't awake yet or he's left the house but his car keys are still on the hook so Loris figures he's still sleeping. He puts the kettle on, switches the tv on in the living room keeping the sound low, puts the beer in the bin from last night and gets to making a cup of coffee.  

Just as he's finishing up Emre makes his way into the kitchen and then he thinks that maybe staying here was a bad idea because Emre is shirtless and that’s enough to send Loris into a frenzy any day. His hair is product free and mussed making it look so so soft; if Loris had a problem trying not to touch Emre last night, he's got an even bigger dilemma now. To make it even worse Emre stretches, his huge built arms above his chest, making his abs taut and the muscles in his biceps and chest tight. The keeper is pretty sure he hasn’t taken a breath until the younger man walks over and takes the hot cup of coffee out of Loris' hands. 

He doesn’t even protest against Emre taking his cup, just lets it happen, while he gapes like a fish out of water, before he realises he being uncool and obvious and sets to making another cup of coffee. "S'good," Emre mumbles against his mug. 

"Well I am at the best at everything I do, so of course it's good," Loris replies, stirring the water as a distraction from Emre's naked torso.  

"For one moment I was glad to have you around and then you opened your mouth, remind me to never let you stay over again," the dark-haired man declares, leaning against the counter. Loris turns around, taking a sip of the liquid before his eyes dart to Emre who's running a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his eyes.  

Loris takes another gulp of his coffee averting his eyes to rain sliding down the patio glass.  

"Fuck off, you love having me around who else can make a bomb ass cup of coffee like that?"  

"Any coffee shop in the world mate," Emre replies deadpan. 

"Ha-ha." 

Loris makes his way into the living room with his coffee, smirking to himself. Banter with Emre is easy and the best part of his day. He puts his feet up on the coffee table, leaning his head against the back of the couch while Emre flips through the channels on the tv.  

"What are you doing today?" Emre asks him. It's their day off and Loris has no plans; he needs to recover from this hangover. 

"I don’t know man, got no plans, probably going to stay here and bug you," he tells him, amusement in his voice. 

Emre replies back with, "No please don’t," false pain coating his words.  

"Why have you got better things to do?" 

"Yeah plenty."  

"Like what?" Loris asks, eyes flicking to the movement on the tv. 

"Like not having you bug me," Emre says as he leans back on the coach, relaxing against the cushions.  

"You love me," Loris says with laughter in voice before regretting every word. S _hit why did he say that._  

"You wish," Emre responds laughing. 

 Loris laughs back and shoves Emre in the shoulder looking over at him and seeing this bright smile on his face. He also has this look in his eyes that makes Loris' heart beat faster and his smile get wide. Averting his gaze he focuses on the droning tv, before deciding he needs a shower. 

"I'm actually going to go shopping later, do you want to come, we can get something to eat after," Emre says as Loris gets up off the couch.  

"Well if you insist on paying for dinner, I can't say no," he says, knowing it will annoy the other man. He loved doing that, getting a pointless rise out of him, it made him smile.  

"When did I insist? You know what forget it, I'm going alone." 

"So fragile", Loris retorts with laughter in his voice. 

* 

The season continues and the games come thick and fast over the winter. Loris has no family over here and he can't go home so he spends the day with Emre who moans about Loris' cooking and bad choice in movies. He's insufferable but it just makes Loris love him more. They spend the day eating the not so good dinner Loris made, while watching home alone for the 100th time. Loris gives Emre socks as a present to which he looks at with a dead eyed expression, grunts and places them to one side. Loris bursts out laughing, 'You didn’t like my present Emre?”  

"Oh yeah it's great, socks I can buy for myself."  

Loris tells him, "It’s the thought that counts mate" 

"Let's hope you think that when you see that I also got you socks," Emre says smugly. Loris' face drops. "Ha! Thought so."  

"Shut up," Loris tells him as he picks up a gift bag from under the tree, handing it over to Emre, “That was a joke Em, this is your real present." 

Emre opens the bag and pulls out a brown leather bracelet with a metal plate in the centre which was personalised with the inscription EC23. Emre runs his fingers over the engraving and smiles one of those smiles he thinks no can see but Loris can see right through him. He looks over at the blonde, grumbles "Thanks" and holds out the bracelet so Loris can hook it around his wrist. 

"Do you like it?" Loris asks unsure and a bit insecure because he had clue what to get: he can't claim to be the best give giver. 

Emre grumbles back "It's cool I guess," which in Emre speech translates to _I love it, thank you._  Loris had to figure this out through many grumbles and half words but he seems to be a little bit of an expert at Emre speech by now. Loris puts the bracelet on him and watches as Emre admires it with that same smile and his heart fills with love and pride because he caused that smile.  

After breaking out of his bubble, Emre hands Loris a little bag. He opens it to reveal a box inside and opens that to reveal a key. 

"What?", he asks surprised. 

"It’s a key," Emre tells him plainly.  

"Well yeah, I know, I know what a key looks like." Was he being serious, Loris has seen a key before, how did the man fail to recognise the real question here? "A key to what?", he asks when Emre still doesn’t provide him with any information.  

“My apartment.” 

Loris gapes at him, “Why?” 

“Well your always there and you never leave me alone and you're always around annoying me so I figured I'd get you a key so I don’t have to let your annoying ass in every two seconds,” Emre tells him, fake interest in the movie running on the screen. 

“Wow. You can’t claim to hate having me around while you gift me with me with a key to your place,” Loris says pulling the key out if the box and hooking it onto the set of his own. “You know this totally disregards all the claims you make of me being annoying and you not wanting me in your space. You know that right?" 

“Can you just be quiet for once and accept the gift?” Loris considers that as he tosses the keys onto the table. 

“Ok. Thank you,” he says stretching his arms behind his head before placing his hands on his head, leaning back on the couch. “Least now I don’t have to wait for your lazy ass to get out of bed and answer the door.”  

"If you don’t shut up I'm taking it back," Emre threatens. 

"Empty threats Em.....so the socks?" 

"A joke you should have seen your face man." Emre says looking back and smirking at him. Their eyes catch for a little too long making Loris' heart pound. Loris shoves him in the shoulder, breaking the moment, laughing as Emre shoves him back. 

* 

They spend the rest of the day lounging on the sofa and eating one too many chocolates. Loris throws the wrappers back into the box and Emre gets very displeased and calls him slob.  

Loris laughs and tells him to loosen up. They ditch the Christmas movies after home alone and play call of duty instead where they lose hours before realising that it's dark out and they were hungry again.  

Loris dishes out leftovers from earlier and opens a pack of beer, tossing a can to Emre who is flicking through the tv in boredom before he settles on some comedy show that serves as background noise while they scroll through their phones.  

"Christmas is overrated," Loris says tossing his phone somewhere into the couch cushions, sinking back into the sofa.  

"Agreed," Emre murmurs lying down on the couch. He places his legs in Loris' lap. Loris is loose limbed due to the three beers he's downed. He's relaxed. Emre pushes a foot against the inside of his thigh getting comfortable and Loris puts a hand on his ankle.  

"I'm bored," Loris says. Emre is still scrolling. "Em....," he says pulling Emre's phone down away from his face. 

"Hmmm." 

"I'm bored." 

"Do something then." 

"Like what?" 

"Dunno," Emre shrugs and when he does the material of his t-shirt rides up skin. Loris leans his head back towards the ceiling and gulps.  

"Do you believe in soulmates?" Loris asks to the ceiling. He twists his head in Emre's direction, leaning his cheek against the material of couch. It's soft. And warm. Emre's eyes are closed and he has one hand behind his head and another resting on his stomach. "Emre." Loris nudges him in the side.  

Emre's eyes flutter open slowly. Loris still has a hand on his ankle. "Do you?" He asks quietly, meeting Loris' gaze.  

Loris shrugs, "I mean..... I guess." 

"You guess?" 

"Yeah, I dunno," Loris says averting his gaze and looking straight on towards the tv and then down at his hand on Emre's ankle. "I mean I believe in the physical representation of it, like people forming marks but I don’t know if I believe that makes two people compatible or perfect for each other. Like I don’t think some star aligned mark signifies that the relationship, if even romantic, means that two people are just meant for each other y'kno." 

He says it like he's thought about this over and over again, which he has. And now he's spilling it all to Emre.  

"Maybe that's not how it works anyway." Emre says.  

Loris looks at him, "But it is though. People kiss and claim they're in love because both marks became visible on their skin. But what if they aren't right for each other. What if the bond is meant to be platonic and the real person we're meant to love is still out there but we don’t know because the world has forced us into believing that the people with our matching soul mark are the ones we're meant to be with?" He trails off. 

"You think about this a lot huh?"  

Loris shrugs, "I'm just saying you know. I think if people are going to be together they should get to know each other, and fall in love, and date you know. Not just settle because they think it's how it should be. I don’t want to be with my soulmate unless I know them and we get along." Loris pauses and pushes his hand under the fabric of Emre's joggers and strokes the skin of his ankle.  

"I don’t want them just because they were assigned to me. I want them because they I love them, because they care about me, because loving me isn't an obligation but something they feel because it's real. Not because they're thrown into it."  

"That's way too deep for slightly tipsy me to deal with," Emre tells him making Loris giggle and shove against his leg.  

"Shut up, what do you think?" Loris asks, drawing patterns into his skin.  

"I agree with you," Emre says.  

"You're just saying that so you don’t have to talk about it" 

"No.....I..... you're right. I don’t believe in the star aligned bullshit. Maybe the right people do get our mark but whether they're the people that are right for us.......I don’t know," he shrugs. 

"What do you believe in?" Loris asks, lazy and slow.  

"Football," Emre grins at him. Loris laughs. "Me too."  

"And scoring. And finding the right people. The universe might be wrong but it can find us the people we don’t know we need," he says.  

Loris takes a second a process that before he smiles. "Yeah I guess it does," he whispers sharing a smile with Emre. 

They sit in silence for a while after that. Its comfortable and peaceful and the sound of rain hitting the window fills the room while the tv drones on with something that's meant to be funny. Loris still has his hand on Emre's ankle when Emre stretches out, pushing his feet against the arm of the sofa and lifting his arms above his head. He yawns and rubs his eyes before he sits up and rubs a hand through his hair, " 'm tired," he grumbles, "Think I'm gonna head to bed." 

"Who said you can stay here?" Loris asks.  

"Me," Emre says looking over at him and sticking a tongue out at him when he does before getting up and walking up the stairs to the guest room.  

Loris sighs. Its thirty minutes after midnight when he gets off the couch and stretches his limbs before he follows Emre up the stairs. He stops by the guest room where the door is still ajar and leans against the door jamb watching Emre toss his shirt onto the floor, "G'night Em." 

"Night Lori," he says, climbing into bed and turning the lamp off. Loris walks away and down the hall and climbs into bed thinking about the feel of Emre's skin under his fingertips.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember how i said this was going to be updated regularly, well i lied, im sorry, anyway i hope you like this xx


	3. Never Caught A Feeling This Hard

The new year is spent with the entire team at Hendo's house. He invites everyone over after the game. It was only a draw, but a draw against city wasn’t bad and the team are in good spirits as they make their way to Hendo's. He has the type of food that’s frowned upon for competing footballers but hey its new year's ever and no one is telling. The Brazilian's come in own their own version of fashion and fancy attire, Loris doesn’t know if he understands what's going on with the whole thing.  

The house is full and there's some sort of karaoke, slash screaming in the mic from most of the lads. Loris sings Mr Brightside with Gini and everyone joins in. After that he spends the night drinking and dancing, one eye on Emre, who's smile is wide and happy. He's dancing and Loris finds himself moving through the throngs of people and ends up dancing next to Emre.  

Loris wants to kiss him. 

"You're a shit dancer mate!" Loris screams over the music. 

"Well how can you judge me, it's not like your winning any dancing competitions!" Emre screams back, smiling.  

"I'm better than you!" Loris screams, moving in time to the music.  

Emre scoffs, Loris pushes him in the shoulder. The music shifts to something more upbeat and fast and the two of them find themselves moving together. As the people move around them and more people make it to the dance floor as the clock gets closer to midnight Loris finds himself getting pushed closer and closer to Emre. Its five minutes to the new year and Loris is standing toe to toe with the man he loves, and then he feels hands his hips, Emre's hands and nothing has ever felt better. They are pressed so close together, Loris can feel when Emre breathes, when he gulps, can see all the lines in his face and smell his aftershave.  

There's one-minute left till midnight, their bodies are still moving against each other, half dancing, half swaying to a beat they've made up themselves. The countdown starts but they don’t break apart from each other, Emre's tightens his grip on Loris' hips, so tight Loris thinks there might be an imprint of his fingertips on his skin. They find themselves leaning their foreheads together as everyone around them screams 'HAPPY NEW YEAR', Loris grins at Emre whispers "happy new year's," finds his eyes drifting to Emre's lip as Emre whispers it back.  

His eyes slip closed and he's leaning forward, and Emre isn't moving away. All his thoughts are slipping away, all the doubt and insecurity and anxiety because all he wants is to kiss Emre and nothing seems to matter right now. Until the hands slip of his hips and his eyes open to find Emre being dragged away with a super drunk and excited Sturridge claiming, 'you can't miss the fireworks guys, they're going to be epic, come on!'  

Loris wants to scream. A lot.  

Sighing he walks outside, the cold air making his teeth shatter. Blasts of colour ignite the sky. Loris puts his arm around Emre's shoulder, nudges against his side, and watches the fireworks colour the night air. His soulmate mark throbs as he leans against Emre under the stars and flashes of red, green and gold.  

* 

"HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY!!!" Loris screams which is met with a pillow to the face from a groggy Emre. 

"That's no way to behave on your birthday, Emre," Loris says throwing the pillow back onto the bed which ricochets off it onto the floor. "Get out of bed Em, come on." 

Emre rolls over shoves his face into the other pillow. 

"Emreeeeeee." 

"Urgh," Emre grunts, "I'm going to kill you." 

"Yeah yeah, whatever," Loris says unfazed as he walks over to the window ready to throw open the blinds. 

 "If you touch those I'm going to shave your head in your sleep," Emre threatens through a scratchy voice.  

"Ha-ha.... wake up," Loris demands, hands on his hips. 

"Go away." 

Loris leaves the blinds alone and walks out of the room and Emre has never appreciated anything more. He doses off again and is woken up with a shove in the shoulder and something being shoved at him. 

"Come on Em, wake-y wake-y."  

"Leave me alone," Emre complains, hands up to cover his ears. 

"Nope, wake up idiot" 

Grumbling, Emre sits up against the headboard, half asleep, his hair falling into his eyes. Loris shoves something at him again and Emre finds out its breakfast. His mood increases when he sees coffee and pancakes and syrup and ok maybe he doesn’t hate Loris as much as he first thought. He takes a sip of the coffee while Loris rifles through his wardrobe. 

"What are you doing Lo? Don’t steal my clothes," Emre says through chewing. The pancakes are good, it's almost enough to make up for Loris screaming at him first thing in the morning.   

"Ew, why would I want your clothes? Your sense of style is rubbish." Loris is pulling items out of his wardrobe, hmm-ing and arr-ing and looking at some pieces with something of disapproval if the way his mouth twists is any indication as he nods in approval or shakes his head and shoves items apparently not good enough for him back into the wardrobe.  

Emre does not need him here judging his clothes thank you very much,"Pffttt, look who's talking."   

"Yeah, me, a fashion warrior," Emre nearly spits out his coffee. He doesn’t know what's worse, the fact the Loris said 'fashion warrior' or the fact that he thinks his style is something from the heavens. Either way it's all bad; he's really, really glad he has coffee right now while Loris pulls an outfit out and says, "Wear this Emre, you'll look decent for once."  

"Loris....fuck off, I always look great. I'm not wearing what you say, you always look awful." 

"I'm offended." 

"Leave then," Emre says while eating his overly sugary pancakes which he cannot feel bad about eating because it's his birthday and they taste so damn good. He watches as Loris makes a show of hanging the clothes up, accessories and trainers all layed out as he looks proud of his work before he jumps onto the bed nearly knocking Emre's coffee off the tray. "Do you mind idiot?"  

"Nope," Loris replies, popping the 'p', huge smile on his face which allows him to get away with everything. Loris knows that Emre will give in to him and his face. And his stupid smile.  

"I don’t deserve this abuse from you. Not today," Emre says savouring his coffee before a big limbed blonde decides to spill it everywhere using it as a distraction to not look at Loris' face.  

"Well you didn’t even say thanks when I said happy birthday so yeah, you do," he says, trying to steal a bite of Emre's pancakes while Emre shoves him away claiming he 'should have made his own,' "Mean," Loris grumbles, puppy eyes making a play at him, trying to save his fingers from Emre's fork and its stabbing motions. Loris sticks his tongue out at him, not giving up the fight as he manages to get his hands on a bite of Emre's food, making his fingers sticky with syrup.  

Emre grunts at Loris stealing his food, "Well who stands at the end of someone's bed at god knows what time and yells happy birthday. Are you the fucking grim reaper? How did you even get in?" He asks looking over at Loris who is licking syrup off his fingers. Loris meets his eyes and grins, wide and bright. Emre averts his gaze and gulps down his coffee. Loris smirks.  

"You gave me a key," Loris says deadpan. 

"Oh yeah, can I have it back?" 

"You wish mate. Also, its 11-o-clock, just because we don’t have training doesn’t mean you've got to be a lazy shit," Loris says laying back against the pillows.  

Emre doesn’t reply as he continues eating his pancakes. The old man probably wants some peace and Loris decides its only fair to give him some, seeing as its his birthday so he sinks into the pillows and scrolls through his phone while Emre finishes. When he does Emre slumps against the headboard. Loris giggles at him and Emre shoves in the arm. They sit like that for a while. Loris shows him the funny memes on instagram which they laugh at together before deciding it was time to get out of bed, Emre flings the sheets back, stretches as he rises out of bed and heads to the bathroom.  

His muscles flex and loris gapes from where he's sat on the bed before closing his mouth and turning back to his phone. Emre showers and dresses and makes a point of not wearing what Loris picked out for him which loris protests against from where he's still lounging on Emre's bed, in Emre's sheets, against his pillows. 

Emre looks at funnily him when he's finished getting dressed. Something twists in Loris' gut when Emre sits on the edge on the bed putting his watch on. Loris wants to put his arm around his shoulders and touch his skin. Emre looks back at him, "We going anywhere or what?"  

Loris clears his throat, and climbs out the bed.  

* 

Loris gets Emre a birthday card with the message 'Happy Birthday idiot, I guess I like you enough to be your friend. You're a shit dancer and an even worse footballer. Love Loris; the best damn thing that ever happened to you,' signed with kisses at the bottom.  

Emre shakes his at the message, tells Loris he's a dickhead on their way to lunch after they dropped by Lo's place so the blonde could get changed and style his hair. Lunch is good and soon their back in the car again, the radio playing the same ten songs usual. Its January and the air is bitter and cold when they reach the docks. There aren't many people around at this time of year and they're both glad for it. Being recognised isn't on their list of things to do today. They walk along the water for a while, coming to a stop along the railing, watching the water flow steadily as their breath dissipates in white puffs though the air. 

It's peaceful and quiet as they stand side by side.  

Loris takes a break from looking at the water, he's never really been here before, never spent time admiring the peacefulness, never wanted to be around so many people and deal with being recognised. He loved being a footballer, more than anything, can deal the hardships and the things that went wrong but dealing with fans constantly was something he wished he didn’t have to deal with. He was grateful for them and that they supported him but being recognised was tiring.  

 So, he stands there and takes in the docks and the beauty of the river, the boats in the port and the normal people going about their daily life while he admires the view.  

Soon the smell of donuts fills his nose and he can't help but buy some. No one has to tell their dietician. Emre laughs at him when he returns with a bag of warm sugary treats and they stand at the edge of the water eating them and sharing smiles.  

"Can't believe you didn’t get me a present," Emre says chewing  

"Who says I didn’t."  

"Well where is it then?" Emre asks, eyes on the water, body relaxed. 

"Car," Loris responds, while licking the sugar of his fingers. He looks over at Emre who's looking at him with that look in his eyes again and he's smiling so wide and all Loris can think about is how beautiful he is. The younger man has sugar on his bottom lip and Loris wants to lick it off and he realises this isn't the place but he reaches up and wipes his thumb across Emre's bottom lip. Emre's breath stutters a little as Loris wipes the sugar away and they are both staring right at each other. Loris finds himself leaning forward until a clang from somewhere in the background breaks them apart.  

Loris' hand falls from Emre's face and he looks away, back at the river. A searing pain shoots through Loris' soul-mark, almost painful enough to bring tears to his eyes. He has no clue why it does that or what it means but right now it hurts so much he finds his breath getting heavier.  

'Want to leave?' Loris asks, voice small, because the cold is stinging and the pain running through his chest is awful. The pain in his heart is even worse and he doesn’t want to stand here any longer. It’s the second time he's tried to kiss Emre and if the dark-haired man really is his soulmate, the only way to find out is kissing him but it feels like the universe has other plans for them. It frustrates him and rips at his heart because he doesn’t want to think about how he couldn’t be Emre's soulmate, about how maybe they aren't meant to be together. It hurts and they never talk about it and right now he wants to do anything but think. 

Emre nods his head and they walk back to the car. "So, where's my present?" Emre asks, his voice sounds a little weird, off, but Loris pushes it away and pulls a bag from the backseat, hands it over to Emre who pulls out a green jersey. The same green jerseys that the Liverpool keepers wear. Turning it around Emre finds the print, 'KARIUS 1', splayed across the back and the look on his face is priceless.  

"Why?" he asks pained.  

"It's signed, be grateful. Do you know how many people would kill for a signed jersey by me?" 

"None."  

"Hilarious," Loris says sarcastically.  

"What the fuck am I going to do with this?"  

"It's signed." 

"Yeah, I can see that, I don’t need this," Emre is holding the piece of fabric away from him, like it's going to sting him, mock horror coating his features. 

"Why don’t you appreciate me Emre? I figured if you're going collect all other footballer's shirts from the games we play you can at least have mine too, and well its more special because its signed. Have they ever signed their shirt for you?" This logic was _.....special_. Emre doesn’t even have the words.  

"This is your idea of a present? A signed shirt from yourself? How conceited are you?" Emre really wants to laugh but doing that will give Loris the advantage so he has to try his hardest not to. 

"I'm conceited? You're the one not being grateful when I was generous enough to sign a shirt for you," he says, mad that Emre won't accept his present.  

"You're such an idiot," Emre says. 

"Whatever you love it," Loris tells him starting the car, grin on his face, for some reason proud of himself.  

"I actually don't, I'm going to donate it." 

"No, you're not."  

"I am." Emre says pulling his seat belt on and turning the radio on, "Shut up and drive," he says through a smile he tries to hide. 

"Bossy." 

Loris doesn't drive home instead they end up at Dejan's house. When they enter most of the other lads are there and they all hug Emre and wish him a happy birthday. The defender ruffles Emre's hair which gets him a death stare but its Dejan and Emre is never really mad at him.  

There is no alcohol due to training and an influx of games but all the lads give Emre presents which he says he likes better than Loris'. It's fun and there's food and even Kloppo stops buy to wish Emre 'happy birthday' and give him a birthday cuddle. Most of his national teammates wish him a happy birthday on social media. Loris talks to Clyney and poses for a selfie before seeing Emre with his head titled back in laughter. His heart skips a beat and the corners of his own lips turn up.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Birthday messages consist of #friends, incase we all get confused, funny how it aint used for literally anyone else, anyway did yall like the nye scene I love writing it , thanks for reading xx


	4. This feels like falling in love

"Yo pass the ball!" Studge screams at Sadio, body half turned to the goalpost, watching the ball fly through the air, falling to his feet perfectly. He takes one touch before slotting it past Simon who grunts trying to catch it; Studge already cheering with the lads on his team. 

Simon picks the ball out of the net disgruntled. The lads all mill in the middle of the pitch shoulders slouching after a hard session, pouring water over their faces before pouring it down their throats. Studge falls backwards onto the ground, head tilted towards the sun, mid spring air being kind enough to warm his skin, while Milner walks by him, squirting water at his face. Studge opens his eyes, looks back and laughs, "Gonna get ya for that Milly," he warns him, laughter in his voice.  

"Oh really," James replies deadpan

Most of them stretch out on the grass, regaining their breath before a light gym session. Dom and Joe are tossing the ball between them, sat on the grass, hands behind their back, legs dancing in the air as they bounce the ball between their feet. Migs walks over and takes a bottle before groaning and settling next to Hendo, "Old man," Studge laughs, as Simon just rolls his eyes, used to the teasing. 

"Urgh, those two are it again," Studge says, pointing at Loris and Emre who are indeed shoving each other over something at the far end of the training pitch, ''Can they just get together already. They're practically married, why don’t they just put a ring on it," he says, like he's done with all their flirting, which he is. 

"Wait they aren't together?!," Joe exclaims in shock, not catching the ball when it's tossed to him sending it over his head and rolling down the pitch.

"No," Hendo replies.

"Really? Are you sure?" Joe asks bewildered, "I thought they were," he says flustered. His expression one of confusion like his life changed after this bit of information.

"Me too," Dom pipes up, crossing his legs as he chugs water from the bottle. "They act like they are. Are they soulmates?" he asks.

"No one knows mate," Adam says picking grass off Hendo's thigh. 

"Well, have none of them mentioned anything?" Gini pipes up curious, the two Germans love life at the forefront of everyone's mind. 

"Have you ever seen either of them talk about anything," Studge mentions, squinting against the sun, as he gazes at the clouds.

Gini replies with, "Good point," as the rest of them all hum their agreement. 

"They should say something though," Ox buts in, secret smile on his face that the lads all laugh at him for. Ox and his soulmate were inseparable, but he was happy no matter how much the team teased him.

"Maybe they think it won't work out," Andy provides rolling a ball under his feet. "I thought that with me and mine," he supplies.

"Should we help them?" Clyney asks

"Help them? How?" Hendo asks fiddling with Adam's fingers, small smile on his face. 

"I think getting involved will do more harm than good, they have something going on," Milner says, always the voice of reason.

 "Yeah, they think it's really good friendship," Studge retorts, making everyone laugh. "Someone should hint something at them though, like tell them that its fine, they can mention soul-marks the world isn't going to end."

"Emre I'm going to kill you!" They hear Loris screaming from the other side of the pitch. They all look back to see Loris chasing a giggly Emre. Loris catches him but they both lose their balance and fall to the ground laughing and scuffling as Loris tries to mess Emre's hair. Both of them are smiling wider than the sun, light beams bouncing off the product in their hair. 

"They're so in love, it's disgusting," Joe says turning his head back to the group.

"Says you mate," Studge tells him, "You and Dom are always all over each other."

"No, we aren't." Joe says defensively. 

"You are," Dejan says giggling, "You're always holding hands and kissing when you think no one can see, but we see it mate." 

Dom and Joe both blush, colour rising so high up their cheeks

Dom tells them to all, "Shut up, just because you're all jealous, we're better than you," he says taking Joe's hand and placing a kiss against the side of his head. Joe smiles at him, soft and full of love, butting his head against Dom's cheekbone in appreciation and thanks. 

"Urgh stop it will ya," Studge tells them. "When did this club turn into love island, I came here to play football not watch people fall in love," he says exasperated. 

Some of them laugh at that, "Why are you picking on us, those two are just as bad," Joe says pointing at Hendo and Adam who are gazing at each other, lost in the clouds. 

"You're all terrible," Studge says, final, flinging an arm over his eyes and letting out a dramatic sigh. 

"What are you guys talking about?" Loris asks, walking over with Emre who's hair is well and truly tousled. Studge moves the arm from his eyes squinting at them.

"Soulmates," he says, smirking smugly.

Loris smiles weirdly, starts wringing his fingers. Emre doesn’t even respond, just walks away, forever silent, "Oh yeah ok, we're uh......going...uh gonna go... to the...... gym," he says funnily. Like there's something stuck in his throat. Loris walks after Emre, meeting him at the door and placing an arm around his shoulder.

"Totally soulmates," Sturridge declares, leaning back down on the grass. 

"Yeah and everyone but them knows it," Dejan says.

"Why are they so hung up on it I don’t get it, it isn't like it's going to change, they're practically stuck to each other anyway," Adam vocalises. 

The rest of them just nod their agreement as Klopp walks over and asks, "What's all this gossip" as he stands there leaning over them, blocking out the sunlight with his huge frame, casting a shadow over them.  

"Loris and Emre," Studge provides, eyes closed against the sun, red spots dancing behind his vision. 

"Oh yeah," he says matter of fact, like this is all something he's heard before. 

"Do you know?" Gini asks in shock.

"Anyone with two eyes can see that and I wear glasses huh," Klopp replies, gruff, making the lads laugh. If anyone knew anything about everything, it was Jurgen Klopp. 

"Even the manager knows and those idiots can't figure out that they're meant for each other. This is actually so dumb," Studge sighs.

"Leave them alone guys, they're probably worried," Hendo pipes up, captain's role taking centre stage. 

"Yeah but they should be together, life is short and shit. They should be happy," Insgy says, quiet until now.

"They are together," Hendo replies.

"No, properly, before they lose each other," Danny says. For some reason he had taken on the pessimistic role which was odd seeing as he saw light in everything and never stopped cracking a joke.

"Who says they're going lose each other?" Adam asks. 

 "It's football mate, we’re all leaving one day," Simon buts in voice gruff and matter of fact as usual.

"Wow way to get dark mate," Studge says getting up of the ground and stretching. "Anyway, I haven't got time to talk two love sick soulmates who can't get past their own stupidity, I've got to work out and we've got games to win. Stop gossiping," 

"You started it," Milner throws out. 

"Well its ended, come on." They all groan, standing up and stretching; that was enough of a break for one day. Studge figures that the two Germans are grown enough to figure out their own problems and love lives, as he walks inside Melwood and heads to the gym. 

*

They are playing Watford away. 

The game is hard and intense and there hasn’t been many clear-cut chances. Everything that Liverpool tries to do is blocked out by a Watford player. Possession is kept mainly in midfield and the first half is intense. There’s three minutes added and that’s when Emre scores one of the best goals of his career. He doesn’t even know what goes through his mind when it happens, he sees the pass from Lucas and then he’s lifting his body off the ground and leg his hitting the ball and all he hears is the stadium roaring. The ball hits the back of the net and he’s screaming and running and he ends up knee sliding in celebration right in front of the manager.

He cannot think. 

He just scored a bicycle kick and it was amazing and his teammates are screaming in his face. Someone is ruffling his hair, there’s hands all over him and voices in his ear and nothing can top this feeling. He turns around to see whose hands are in his hair and its Loris. He has this look in eyes, like their shining and Emre's breath leaves his body a little as he has a wide smile on his face.

Emre turns back around to hands all over him but Loris leans in close, says 'Fucking hell Em, I'm so proud of you," sincerely laced with fierceness. The words resonate through him and he can't shake them; that look in Loris' eyes and the words he says stay in Emre's mind for the rest of the game. 

Halftime comes and everyone is in full spirits, still screaming about the goal. Emre doesn’t want to think about it just now, wants to stay focused on the rest of the game because they still have a gruelling forty-five minutes and they can't let their minds slip. The second half is uneventful not much happening, a very hard counter to defend from Watford but the whistle blows at 1-0 from Liverpool and its Emre's spectacular goal that wins the game. 

The locker room is ecstatic after a hard game and witnessing a goal like that. The coach back to Liverpool is full of all the lads wanting a selfie with Emre and congratulating him on the goal. He feels happy and a little special. Him and Loris sit together where Loris takes a selfie with him too and congratulates him on social media. Emre feels happy and loved. Tiredness is sinking in and soon the coach is quiet as the journey progresses. 

Its late. 

Emre yawns, leans against his head on Loris' shoulder. Loris puts an arm around him and Emre moves closer to him, puts his face in the crook of Loris' neck and yawns again. His eyes fall shut and he focuses on Loris' fingers stroking through his product free hair. The dark haired man doesn’t realise when he doses off but he wakes to a gentle shake of the shoulder

"Come on Em," Loris says gently. They make their off the coach, mumble a few goodbyes to the rest of the rest of the lads and make their way over to the car. Emre is way too tired to drive so he climbs into Loris' car and leans against the window with his hood pulled up over his eyes. 

Loris pulls up to Emre's apartment but Emre doesn’t move from the seat for a minute, "Stay the night."

Loris doesn’t respond, just climbs out of the car and makes his way into the building, Emre following sluggishly behind him. In the apartment they both make their way up the stairs, Loris heading into the guest room which is basically his by now, but Emre puts a hand on his hip, leans his forehead against the back of Loris' head, doesn’t say anything, because Loris always knows what's he's saying one way or another. 

They both head into Emre's room, strip down and climb into bed. It isn't awkward or weird and Emre doesn’t even know what they're doing; he's tired and sleepy and he just wants to feel the blonde near him. 

They don’t say a thing but they never do really talk about anything that matters. 

Loris spreads out on his front, arms shoved under the pillow. Emre lies down on his side facing away from the other man but as soon as his head hits the bed he drifts off to sleep. Emre shifts once throughout the night and finds tattooed arms around his waist and breath along the back of his neck. Loris is a furnace against him and it warms his cool skin as he finds himself moving further back into his space. Closing his eyes again he feels content as he puts one of his own hands on top of Loris' and sleeps peacefully for the rest of the night. 

 *

Loris wakes up with Emre's back against his chest and his arm around Emre's hip, his hand very close to the waistband of Emre's shorts. Loris doesn’t know when they tangled together during the night but their legs are stretched out together and Emre is tracing over his arm with feather light motions. Loris doesn’t have to shift much but he sees Emre tracing over the shape of his tattoos. His fingers are moving over the star so slowly; like he's scared to touch, or wake him up. 

Loris moves closer just slightly, leaning his forehead against the back of Emre's head and stretches his legs out against Emre's yawning. Emre stills. He stops tracing and his body goes stiff against Loris'. Loris strokes a thumb against his abdomen, nudging him to continue. 

 "What does this mean?" Emre asks when he continues tracing.

"It's a star," Loris replies deadpan.

"Shut up, I'm being serious," Emre tells him; their voices no higher than a whisper. "I mean why did you get it?"

Loris doesn’t reply for a while, not until Emre turns over and faces him and when he does he reaches out to trace the swallow on his chest. Loris smiles. Thinks about how he could reach down and press his lips against Emre's and see whether the soulmark becomes visible; instead he watches while Emre touches his skin.  Lying here like this in the quiet, closed off from the world, with the only person he wants, he realises if he was going go tell anyone about his tattoos he would tell Emre. No one has ever asked Loris about them and he isn't even sure if he would tell them but this is Emre, so when Emre asks why got he got a certain tattoo as his fingers smooth over all the lines on his skin, he finds himself whispering the reasons and meanings into the silence of the room.

They spend hours like that. Nothing but the movement of Emre's fingers and the soft drawl of Loris' voice. Emre soon stops asking what each one means, just listens to the words flowing from his mouth; takes in the stories, storing them in his mind, keeping them safe and locked away.

Soon the stories end and Emre continues rubbing his fingers over the fearless tattoo on the side of Loris' neck as they lie in each-others comfort and safety for a while longer while Loris thinks about how he could just reach out and take it. How it could all be his if only he could make a move. He leans his forehead against Emre's,"Em," Loris breathes. 

"Hmmm," Emre is still moving his fingers on Loris’ skin and the feeling relaxes him, soothes all his nerves and anxiousness and clears his thoughts.

 Like this everything, seems so easy.

"I....,"  _crap,_  what was he going to say? I love you? He could, he could say it and things could change and maybe he would know Emre's feelings, and right here he feels like he can but Emre speaks; asks him, "What?" and the anxiety settles in his stomach again.

"Um nothing... are you hungry?" he asks, finally moving away and stretching out on the sheets. They spent the entire morning in bed, its one pm and his stomach is demanding food. 

"You're buying," Emre says through a stretch and a yawn. Loris climbs out of the bed and watches him, all his muscles flexing and relaxing. He needs to walk away from that before something else happens.

"Is this why you keep me around, to use me for my money?"

"Obviously," Emre retorts, climbing out of bed and heading towards the shower. 

Loris laughs, heading out of the bedroom towards the guest room to take his own shower. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve seen the gifs of Loris slapping himself in the face from amazement at Emres goal you'll know where this came from  
>   
> [if not this is what im talking about](http://loriskariius21.tumblr.com/post/160226765468/footballandtears-firminhoes)  
> 


	5. Contigo mi corazón duele

The season ends on a high. The reds end in fourth place and have a chance to qualify for the champions league. Its Loris' first lap of honour at the club and he has no family to come over to walk with him; it bugs him a little but he has the lads and he's happy.

He's walking side by side with Emre as they walk around the pitch occasionally applauding the fans until Emre walks over to the kop to collect the samba award; Loris feels pride blooming in his chest at the sight of his smile.  

He pulls his phone out and sticks his camera in Emre's face getting an embarrassing video of him, Emre shoves him away, 'Get that phone out of my face Loris."

"Or what Emre," Loris counters. Emre laughs, a huge spiltting grin making Loris burst out laughing too.They both lean into each other as they walk around the pitch, behind the rest of the lads and their kids. Emre nudges against him once they make it to the end, both wondering to the middle of the pitch, while pictures are taken and kids are running around. "This place is magical huh," Emre says.

Loris nods his head in agreement, sharing a small smile with Emre as the sun bounces of his hair and makes his eyes look lighter than normal, glittering in the sunlight almost magically himself. He throws an arm around Emre's waist as they both take in the noise for a while before the fans filter out and they head to the dressing room. 

*  

They're dancing together, moving round each other, easy and synchronised like water to the sea. Emre throws down some impressive moves; moving his feet and his hips in a gracefully as Loris moves with him focusing on the sway of Emre's hips, too close yet too far away, slowly driving him insane.

An upbeat song with an electric beat starts playing, their feet getting faster, hips gyrating to the beat, laughing. Loris' hand catches on Emre's wrist as they move, adorned in several pieces of jewellery but before he lets go his fingers snag on leather; the same leather bracelet Loris gifted him months ago.

He swipes his fingers over it, adoration and disbelief in his eyes. The beat of the music slows down, and suddenly the movement of their bodies switches to match it. As their feet slow down Emre looks down and sees Loris' fingers around his wrist. "Didn’t even know you wore it," Loris grumbles, barely audible over the music. 

Loris looks up at him and holds his gaze before Emre pulls his wrist away. 

"Shut up," he mumbles, turning away from Loris and pushing his way through the crowd towards the bar to get another drink. Loris sighs, rubbing a hand though his hair, the smile slipping off his face. It was their end of season party and he just wanted to relax and dance a little, preferably with Emre but here he was running away. 

Loris considers walking after him but decides to dance with Gini instead, trying to drown out how Emre had just walked away from him. Loris really thinks they should talk 

Loris tried to kiss him twice, they slept in the same bed, they practically lived together but they never brought any of it up and it hurt because Loris wanted more. 

He wanted Emre.

But he didn’t know how to bring it up without Emre shutting it down because he knew the other man didn’t do feelings. Especially not talking about them. 

Emre was an action person. He would do small things that people had to read and Loris had gotten good at reading them. Understood that when he worked out too hard after a training session he was stressed so Loris would pull him away before he hurt himself and they'd drive around for a while, through quiet roads with the windows open, radio on low until he relaxed a little. Knew all the different smiles he had, when they were genuine or used to get out of situations and when they were sarcastic. Particularly loved the small quirk of his lips when he enjoyed something. 

Loris had to learn to understand him without words, without asking him because Emre didn’t communicate well. He wouldn’t pour his heart out, so when Emre traces over the smiley face tattoo on Loris' arm, asking him why he got a certain tattoo, a story he already knew, Loris knows he's upset. Loris knows that Emre needs comfort in the form of Loris talking, to drown out whatever was going on and when he does that he sees Emre unwind slowly as Loris reiterates them, and later Emre would mumble why he was upset over so a mundane task and would never mention it again.

Loris shakes his head trying to stop thinking as he dances with Gini, spotting Emre laughing with Dejan out of the corner of his eye. 

*

Dejan, Marko, Emre and Loris arrive at the LFC awards ceremony together. The four, meet up at Dejan's and dress up in their suits before driving together to the ceremony, Dejan the designated driver as he is the oldest and therefore he takes responsibility with many grumbles of how he really didn’t want to drive them because it made him look like they chauffeur. Loris turns the radio all the way up to tune him out.

Sadio sweeps up many of the awards and rightly so; winning players player and fans player of the year as he makes a humbling speech and gets congratulated by everyone around him. Awards are called out all night, and when Emre wins goal of the season, Loris smiles the widest and claps him on the shoulder before he walks up and receives the award. He makes a speech looking immaculate and calculated as always. Forever in control of his emotions no matter what happens. 

The rest of the night goes by easily but soon the venue is hot and stuffy and Loris needs fresh air. He makes his out of a side door onto a fire escape and takes in the warm air. Its late. the street is cast in dark shadows as he leans against the wall of the building and takes in a couple breaths of fresh air. This is his last night in Liverpool for a while; summer means a holiday in Ibiza and jetting off to LA. It also means it's the last time he sees Emre for a while. 

Speaking of the German, he makes out the door and leans his back against the wall too, tilts his head up to the stars.

"Congrats mate."

"Thanks," he replies not looking at Loris. With his head tilted upwards the muscles in his neck are taut and Loris thinks about leaving a few hickies along the line of his throat, thinks about pushing him back against the wall and kissing him senseless, about the feel of Emre's skin under his fingers and if he would moan when Loris touched him. 

Instead he throws an arm around Emre's shoulder and ruffles his hair getting a grunt of disapproval from him but when Loris looks at him his eyes are soft like the upturn of his lips and Loris knows he doesn’t care. Emre looked beautiful tonight, dressed up in black slacks and a tight fitted white shirt with a blazer and standing here under the street light his eyes looked even darker and his jawline looked sharper. 

Standing there under the starlight with Emre's heat sinking into to him he feels a dull throb underneath his soulmark, not painful like at the docks or at new year's. He savours the feeling and thinks about how it could never hurt if he just had the courage to kiss Emre. Emre nudges against his hip, "what you thinking about Karius?" He asks slowly, voice low, the dull thump of music and chatter echoing the background. 

You, he thinks before turning and looking at Emre both their heads leaned back against the cold brick wall behind them. Loris simply shrugs, grinning at him. Emre smiles back with a warm glint his eyes not breaking eye contact and Loris moves his hand closer to the nape of Emre's neck, to pull him forward. 

"What you thinking about?" He breathes. 

Emre's eyes dart to the floor, then back up to Loris before he twists his head and looks straight ahead breaking eye contact. "Just-not much," he says to the street. "You're going to ibiza" he says, not as a question because he knew. Loris had planned the entire trip on his couch. Loris just nods silently. 

"It's not that far, I can get a plane to Russia if you suddenly need my moral support, or if you simply need to be knocked into shape, I can spare an hour from my very important getting pissed beyond belief holiday." Emre flicks him on the ear, "Do you need me to come and watch you play, get me a jersey and I'll sit in the crowd and cheer for you."

Emre laughs at that, "please don’t come anyway near me, you can keep your support."

"That’s rude Em. You'd love to have me there cheering you on, being your biggest fan. Though I don’t actually even like you," Loris says through a huge grin, watching Emre laugh. It would be fun, Loris sat in the crowd with an EMRE CAN jersey on and a mini German flag, yelling every time he touched the ball. It could be a love declaration of epic proportions but neither of them would make the first move. He's considering doing it and wonders if Emre would get the message. 

Loris gets what he's saying though, it would be weird being without Emre for over a month or so and he understands that this is Emre's way of saying he'll miss him. 

"A month," Emre says instead straightening up and smoothing down his front before running a hand over his immaculate hair. 

"A month," Loris repeats back to him, leaning off the wall. He reaches forward and straightens Emre's already in place and neat collar, watching him gulp when Loris' fingers brush over his skin lightly. Emre nods at him once, light grin on his lips before he turns around and heads back into the building, Loris trailing behind him. 

*

They don't really say goodbye to each other. Loris goes to Emre's after he's packed for his holiday, bugging him for the last time for a while like he usually does before they head off their separate ways. But first he pulls Emre into a hug with a hand on the back of his nape and his face buried in his neck. Loris breathes in his scent, willing his heart beat to slow down before he places a small kiss on Emre's neck and then pulls away with Emre's hands still on his hips. 

"Good luck," Loris tells him collecting his bags. 

"Thanks. Have a good holiday," Emre replies, collecting his own bags and following Loris out the door where he gets in a separate car and heads too many miles away. Loris pushes the thought of not seeing him away and heads to his own car to go on his own holiday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY OK, life happened and i had to do things and i wasn't sure about this chapter. This is a filler chapter so bare with me, I just had to write it so other things can happen after this, thanks for reading  
> They actually did walk the lap together, still believe no official cameras picked this up or took any pictures of them,  
> [This is to loris sticking his phone in emres face, #realboyfriends ](http://loriskariius21.tumblr.com/post/160912965350/from-loris-insta-story)  
>   
> [The end of season party pics are real](http://loriskariius21.tumblr.com/post/161109691163/a-blessing)  
> [Pics of them turning up together, its a v beautiful pic](http://loriskariius21.tumblr.com/post/162121512518/ec2323happy-birthday-bro-lorisk21-enjoy-your-day)  
> Emre really did win the samba and him and Loris were sitting together,


	6. Baby, gib mir mehr von dem, was du Liebe nennst

Being with his national teammates is different than being with Liverpool. Training is intense, and playing against some of the best is hard. Emre doesn’t start a lot for the national team, it's something that bugs him because he wants to play every minute of every game, can never take not playing but he figures it's an honour to even be called up and all he can do is train is and work hard. 

There's always a promotional event and they don’t get many days to relax but they are here to win this tournament so they work tirelessly. In the midst of all the games and busyness, Emre doesn’t have time to think about missing Loris. 

But he does.

 When Mustafi pulls a prank in training, making everyone laugh, Emre finds his eyes darting towards the goalpost, to see if the blonde finds it funny too only he isn't there and they aren't in Liverpool. His eyes skim over Ter Stegen and Bernd in their own world, and something catches in his throat. Getting heavy and scratchy as he tries to clear it.

The rest of training is spent in a heady-daze, going through the motions but not really grounded to anything. His breathing is a little sticky all throughout his shower and changing. Julian sits near him on the coach to the hotel, teasing and laughing, Emre smiling when he has too, not really catching the words. He makes his way to the hotel room, throws his things onto the floor before trying to breathe properly. 

It isn't until then that he realises that Loris is a bit more than a mark on his skin. At least he thinks it's his.  _What if it_ _isn_ _'_ _t_ _?_ Emre panics. What if he's let the wrong person in; he didn’t have the strength to deal with loving anyone else.

Love. 

It was strange, this was the first time ever he'd thought about it. Acknowledged that they were more than best friends, that Loris understood him better than he understood himself. That Loris could ease the tension in his shoulders, could calm him down, could put up with his blunt emotions. He doesn’t know if this is right, if this is love, he has no comparison. There were others, but nothing like this. 

Maybe Loris was just a good friend and Emre wasn’t used to it. Used to having someone know him like that so he fell in love. His breathing gets heavier the more he thinks.

He can't do this, can't skim at the edges of friends and more, can't stick around wondering. Loris hasn’t said anything, those almost kisses seemed playful, Loris was always doing that, messing around, joking. He was never serious, and Emre fell for it, like an idiot. His breathing is shaky and he realises he's being to dramatic. He never did anything himself, if he lost the other man it would be his own fault, he thinks as falls backwards on the bed, stares at the patterns in the ceiling. 

Loris hasn’t called, having the time of his life partying, while Emre lays on white sheets in a hotel room wishing for home and comfort. To not feel like this. Loris wasn’t just a fling, he felt like hope, like home. He made Emre happy. He made Emre not worry so much. He gave Emre a meaning other than football and winning and being the best. 

Pulling his phone out he calls Loris. Its answered on the second ring, "Hallo." 

"Hallo," Emre breathes, the sound of his voice instantly calming him down. Emre breathes carefully through his nose, and out through his mouth, slow and easy.

"I don’t have time to take phone calls from fans at this at minute," Loris says, forever playful.

"You need to get over your shit jokes." Loris laughs. "What are you doing?" Emre asks, talking to Loris was calming him down. The other man's voice somehow soothing his nerves.

"Getting drunk."

"It's 3pm, what the fuck."

"Yeah, well I'm on holiday I'm allowed alright."

"Have one for me," Emre sighs down the line, closing his eyes. His chest is tight and his eyes are stinging.

"Will do," Loris mutters, "You good Em?" 

"Fine," Emre lies. 

They don’t say anything for a long while, both just breathing down the line in comfortable silence. Emre tracing the patterns on the worn ceiling with his eyes while he thinks about things, about Loris, about how he wasn’t just any other person in his life. He tore at Emre's heart, made Emre feel things he didn’t want to, made him admit things he didn’t want to acknowledge. Suddenly it wasn’t just Emre, it was worrying about Loris, making sure he was ok, that he got home safe, offering him comfort when things didn’t go well. He wasn’t on his own and Emre learnt that through the other man's persistence and whispered words, through the beauty of his smile and the sadness in his eyes. Could read the pain and register the hurt and he knew that he would always try to make sure that Loris was ok. 

"I watch the games, y'kno." Loris breaks the silence after a while, pulls Emre from his thoughts.

"Hmmm," Emre says into the empty room. Listening to Loris' voice is grounding, makes the ache of missing him a little easier and steadies his breathing as his hip throbs through want and heartache. 

'You're good Em," Loris says quietly, just for him.

"Yeah?" Emre asks, insecurity niggling under his skin, asking for approval almost. 

"Yeah," Loris breathes. "Look at the season you had mate, you were amazing, you earnt this yeah, you're good enough," Loris tells him and somehow, he says exactly what Emre needed to hear, somehow knew that Emre was feeling a little down, needed reassurance and comfort. Emre will never understand how he did that. 

"Want to come home," he says down the line. He wants this so badly, to play for his country, to be good, to represent Germany but right now he wants to be home, wants someone who isn't here. 

"You're going to win the entire thing Em. You're going to get your hands on a trophy, a medal, they're going to remember you forever. They'll sing your name Em," Loris tells him full of conviction and belief before he softens and says, "You're ok Emre." 

Russia isn't home, this hotel room isn't home and neither are the teammates downstairs but those words felt like home. Felt like the closest thing to home he's had in a while. They calmed him down, made his breaths come easier and the insecurity settle down a little as he feels his chest lighten and his back ease from the tension as his muscles relax against the bed.

The voice on the other end of the line is home.

Emre smiles and repeats, "We're going to win it," down the line as he fiddles with a piece of thread, finding relief in the easy breaths he's able to take.

"Yeah you are," Loris says through a smile. "You better come home with a medal Emre," Loris warns him.

Emre doesn’t tell him he misses him but its implied when he lets out a sigh. Another breath in a lonely hotel room, missing someone a world away, throbbing under his skin as he realises just how badly he wants the blonde, wants all of it; the good, the bad, the unforgiving nature of a world that could tear them apart. He doesn’t want to put the phone down, "Loris, I- thanks man," he says instead.

"It's fine, now stop moping and go have fun. You'll be home soon yeah," he says putting the phone down. Emre smiles at the ceiling, feeling better, the ache a little less than before. 

His phone buzzes, Leon telling him to get downstairs, breaking him away from his thoughts. He gets off the bed heading down when his phone buzzes again,  **'I miss you too xx'**  Loris texts. 

Emre smiles, light on his feet, ready to win a trophy for his nation. 

*

"Happy birthday Lori," he says smile in his voice, cute nickname making Loris smile.

"Danke Emre," Loris says giggling, "did you get me a present?" 

"No."

"Why? That’s mean Em." Emre can tell he's pouting.

"The fuck do you want?" 

"I don’t know but you have to buy me a present, it’s the rules. I got you one remember."

"Yeah a shit one."  Teasing Loris was always so fun.

"Shut up, I know you still have it," Loris replies. He's right, Emre shoved it to the back of his wardrobe with the rest of the shirts he collected. 

"Whatever." There was no way he was admitting to the other man he'd kept it. That was an ego boost waiting to happen and Emre doesn’t have the strength to deal with that sort of pride.

"I can't believe you’re a bad best friend," Loris tells him.

"No, I'm not." 

"You are," Loris insists. 

"I've got a game tonight, stop bugging me idiot." 

"You rang me, also its my birthday, be nice."

"Nope," Emre says posting a birthday message on Instagram tagging the insufferable blonde. Emre knows when he sees it because he says, "Awwwwww Em, you're so sweet."

"I'm going to delete it."

"You and your empty threats mate." 

"Yeah yeah. You doing anything later? he asks.

"Getting drunk."

"That’s all you ever do. I mean other than that, are you going out?"

"Dunno maybe. Think we're getting a yacht," Emre smirks, "Gonna take some backflips into the water," Loris tells him

"If I was there I'd dunk you in," Emre laughs

"I know," Loris snorts. "I'd pull you in with me, mess that perfect hair you pride yourself on." 

"You just admitted my hair is perfect." Emre's feeling smug.

"No, I didn’t," Loris denies.

"You can't take it back, its final I'm better than you," Emre says trying (and failing) to hold back the laughter.

"Shut up Em." They spend a few seconds laughing until Emre sees the time, realising he has to head to training. 

"I've got to go Loris." 

"What? Why?" He asks.

"Training."

"Urgh," Loris groans, disappointed.

"Well. I've got to get that trophy for you," Emre says, warming Loris' heart. 

"Yeah, I guess," he answers, perking up a little, "you better win today, "I'm going to watch."

"I know," Emre says, ending the call. 

They don’t win and Emre feels disappointed. But they redeemed themselves by pulling a goal back and they tried their hardest. Loris sends him a 'thumbs up' emoji after the game. Emre eats, relaxes on the balcony with Lars and Mustafi, sun on his face, warming his skin. 

They didn’t win today but he was determined they'd get to the end. He couldn’t let them down, especially when they believed in him; blonde locks and tattoos flashing behind his closed eyes. 

*

Emre thinks this is the happiest he's felt all year. Everything falls away leaving him with a feeling of elation. He's proud, of his country, of his teammates. It feels amazing when he gets his hands around the trophy. 

He's high on this feeling; he never wants it to end.

He finds himself crashing a press conference with the trophy in his hands, leading a train of lads all singing and dancing and happy. Him and Mustafi film a silly video, while everyone is on a livestream, too ecstatic to do anything but sing and dance and scream at the top of their lungs. In between the countless pictures there's music blasting from the speakers and beer being thrown around, and shirts ending up on the ground. 

Everything seems perfect and in place and right.

Emre is happy. 

His phone rings when he's in the middle of jumping around with Julian. Not checking the ID, he picks up the call ready to tell whoever it is to ring later because he's too busy celebrating.

"Congrats." It's that familiar drawl and maybe he does have a few seconds to spare.

"What?!" Emre asks. It's hard to hear anything over the excited jumping around of all his teammates, hearing the voice but not quite catching the words. 

"I said congrats!" Loris yells down the phone. 

"Ok jeez I heard you, don’t scream my ears off," Emre tells him as he covers his other ear to block out the sound. It's somewhat ineffective as Marc and Bernd jump around spraying everything and anyone in sight with champagne. 

"Well it's not my fault you can't hear." Emre shakes his head. He'd been away for a month but Loris was still the same. He's glad for it. 

"Did you phone to bug me?" He asks, moving the hand from his ear to protect his face from the beer being sprayed at it. Joshua was also getting in on the action it seemed. Emre laughs when he turns the bottle on Julian and Leon, "I'm putting it down, bye."

"No wait, Emre," Loris says all in the same breath. 

"What?" He asks as Leon comes over with a bottle and indicates for Emre to open his mouth so he could pour its contents down his throat. Emre does.

"You should have said thanks when I said congrats, where are your manners." Emre actually thought he was going to say something serious, he doesn’t respond until at least half the bottle of alcohol is swimming through his veins. He takes a couple of deep breaths after Leon moves away and grins at him loose and open before he shakes his head at this insufferable idiot.

"I'm putting it down," Emre says again watching Kevin, Niklas and Brandt dancing with the trophy.

"Alright alright, calm down," Loris laughs, "You got no one to kiss mate? Is that why your making out with trophies."

"Your jokes are so funny, I always forget to laugh," Emre says dryly behind a loose smile.

"Well I'll just remind you then, how can you ever forget that I'm the funniest person in your life." Loris actually thought he was hilarious.

"Easily," Emre mutters back

Timo comes over and sprays beer all over Emre exclaiming, "Get off the phone right now, Emre!" and when Emre doesn’t he attempts to pour half the bottle down his shirt. Emre ends up outside the locker room and running into a closet to get away from him. 

"What the fuck is happening there?" Loris asks.

"We're trying to celebrate but you're distracting me," Emre drawls, drunk hazed and slow as he slumps against the back of the door. The noise echoes throughout the small room but it feels a world away.

"Well put the phone down then like you threatened," Loris says bringing him back to the present. 

Emre doesn’t.

The coolness of the door against his back hits him like a truck; a relief on his sweaty skin, and a for moment he just listens to Loris breathing on the other end of the line before Loris says, "Told you you’d win it," with pride in his voice. 

Emre tilts his head back against the door and doesn’t respond, "Emre," Loris says slowly, checking if he's still there. 

Hearing that makes him heady and hard, maybe it’s the alcohol flowing through his veins, and he's too drunk to function, maybe he's lost all control of everything but he's gets so hard so fast his head spins leaving him fuzzy and confused for a moment.

Loris calls him again and Emre finds his hand travelling the hem of his shorts, slipping his fingers under the waistband, "Hmmm," he murmurs throatily.

"Thought you wanted to go to celebrating. Why are you still on the phone?"

The more Loris speaks the hotter Emre gets. He skims his thumbnail  over the skin under his waistband, "Hmmmm," he says again too far gone to process anything. 

"How drunk are you, have you forgotten all of the languages you speak, or something?" Loris asks, light concern coating his words. 

Emre thumps his head against the door, groaning while his breathing gets heavier, "Maybe," Emre says raspy, leaning further into the door. He digs his teeth into his bottom lip as he runs a nail over the skin of his groin, fingers not moving any further. Emre breathes heavily, drunk and hard and panting every time Loris speaks. 

"Emre what are you.......shit,…...Em," Loris breathes down the line, voice deepening and hitching in realisation making Emre groan again.

"I.....," Emre starts before someone knocks at the door breaking the bubble. Emre moves away from it, making way for Jonas to barge in like a overcharged puppy screaming about Emre being dumb and missing the celebrations and something else along the lines of 'Deutsch' and 'Meister' and 'Scheisse Emre'. 

Emre is too drunk to piece the words together to complete a full sentence and all he knows is that he's being dragged by Antonio and a giddy Hector to god knows where. One glance at his phone tells him Loris has disconnected. This is the happiest night of his life but he can't help but feel like something is missing. 

*

After the confeds he flies out to LA for a must needed break. The last time he was here his soul-mark formed. He tries not to think about it too much as he chills out and soaks up the sun.

He hasn’t seen Loris in over a month, a few video calls and texts not providing any comfort from the loss of the real thing. Loris bugs him tirelessly while the team are in Hong Kong with things like "I'm bored Emre," and calling Emre on the plane at 5 in the morning claiming he forgot that they were in a different time zones, (all Emre reads is bullshit.) Loris makes Emre text him on the way to Hong Kong because apparently the little shit didn’t bring his Ipad (another lie) and because he doesn’t have anyone else to talk to, (if Emre has ever heard a lie that’s a huge one) but he has no energy to argue with someone who prides themselves on being dumb so, he accepts his fate and texts Loris until he doses off again.

The end of his holiday makes way for the start of the season. Emre returns to Liverpool and greets Mo and Dom and congratulates the younger on winning the world-cup. He speaks to Mo about coming here and settling in before he does a bit of light running before heading to the gym. And of-course the bane of his existence and absolutely not the love of his life has to be there showing off on the bench press.  _Do I have enough time to do a_ _u-turn_ _?_

"If you turn around and walk out I'm going to beat your ass," Loris wheezes through pushing the bar back up. Emre ponders how he knows him so well as he leans against the machine opposite Loris.

Emre grins sarcastically at him, "You?...fight me?.....You don’t stand a fucking chance mate."

"You want to bet," Loris pants through the exercise.

"Not really, I never want to witness anything as sad as seeing you trying to fight," Emre smirks, leaning off the machine and walking over to the bench press, "No spotter?" He asks getting a reply in a cheeky smile and a small shrug. "Idiot," Emre mutters at him. 

Loris puts the bar on the frame and sits up, wiping the sweat off his face before getting up and tackling Emre into a hug. Emre grunts as he gets attacked by long limbs and too much hair in his face but Loris puts his arms around his waist and squeezes tighter. Emre brings his own arms up around Loris' back, splaying a hand across his lower back and placing his other hand on his hip. Loris sighs into his neck making Emre smile as he savours the heat and the feel of skin under his palms.

It feels like coming home.  

"You fucking missed me man," Loris giggles in the side of his neck, lips brushing lightly as he speaks. 

Emre's heart flutters as he denies it, "Fuck off, no I didn’t." 

"You did," Loris says placing a kiss on his neck before he moves away, eyes alight and shining with laughter. 

"More like you missed me," Emre retorts missing the heat. He looks away from Loris' eyes and his face and digs his hands into his pockets, biting his lips to hide the smirk. 

"Um... no," Loris giggles, totally lying. 

"Really is that why you're so clingy," Emre asks looking at him and laughing. Emre really did miss him.

"You love me," Loris says walking away with the towel swung around his neck.  _Yeah, I do,_ Emre smiles to himself, rocking back on his heels and running a hand over his hair before he heads after Loris and shoves him in the shoulder; Loris grins and shoves him back as they walk through the gym. Emre was happy to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at me updating within a week, thanks for reading, emre really did kiss a trophy and its the funniest thing i've ever seen,thanks so much for reading  
> ((also ive now included links in ch5 to stuff that actually happened))


	7. We can feel so far from so close

Emre gets into a fight in a pre-season friendly. It's in Liverpool's own box, right near Loris, he doesn’t  see much of what happens, but Emre is snarling in the players face, anger lighting up his eyes, mouth curling around his teeth as he screams. 

The insults soon turn physical, and Emre has his hands curled up at his sides, ready to fight as he gets pushed and seeing that makes Loris' blood boil. Emre lifts his hands to push back as the ref makes his  way to resolve the problem but before Emre can get his hands on the other player Loris snags his wrist, pulls him back and away before he gets himself into big trouble. "Calm down Emre, come on." 

"HE FUCKING PUSHED ME!" Emre yells, nostrils flaring in anger.

"I know but if you hit him you're going to get carded, come on," Loris says trying to calm him down and keep him out of trouble.

"I want to fucking kill him," Emre growls, breathing heavily. Loris tightens his grip around Emre's wrist and strokes over his pulse point to calm him down and when he does his fingers snag on something. Looking down he sees leather poking through the end of Emre's sleeve. Fingers move on instinct to stoke over the leather and Emre must sense something because the flare of his anger eases a little. _Since when does anyone wear jewellery in a football game._

Emre stops breathing so heavily and the anger in his eyes has eased and he calms down. Loris drops his wrist making way for Emre to walk away, back to the centre of the pitch but not before he tells the ref to "Fuck off," under his breath. The ref cards him with a yellow for the scuffle to which Emre scoffs and walks on.

_Classic Emre._

They all storm into the dressing room, frustrated after only getting a draw as they slump against the lockers tired from the pounding heat and intensity. When Emre walks in, he storms straight into the showers and the expression on his face signifies he isn't happy so Loris gets up and follows him. 

"Come on bro, calm down," Loris says when he walks in to Emre pacing the floor with his hands on his hips as he breathes heavily again.

Emre turns towards him. His eyes are on fire as he clutches the material of his shirt angrily making his knuckles protrude, "He fucking pushed me!" Emre says with venom in his voice.

"I know, there's worse things to happen Em , come on," Loris tells him walking a couple paces forward towards him trying to calm Emre down

Emre starts pacing again as Loris moves closer, "We fucking lost," he says to the floor.  

"It was draw, we pulled one back remember, it's not like it matters anyway."

"He fucking pushed me and the piece of shit ref fucking carded me, I didn’t do shit, what the fuck?" Emre says, frustrated, once again changing the topic. Loris sees his hands tighten in the fabric making the veins bulge against his skin. It was distracting to say the least. 

"Since when do you care about being carded, you normally couldn’t give a shit, all I've seen you do is shrug and forget it." Loris says clearing his voice, standing in place as Emre walked back and forth as his cleats echoed through the room every time he moved.  

"Yeah well, I'm fucking mad," Emre fumes, standing still as he spits the words out. 

"Well it’s a dumb thing to be mad over. We get pushed all the time Em." Loris is perplexed.  _Why was he getting mad over this?_

"Whatever," Emre mutters, nostrils flaring. He brings his hands up and runs them over his face before digging his fingers into his eyes. Loris puts a hand on his shoulder. Emre flinches and shrugs it off as he drops his hands from his face. The anger has faded and in its place was  _sadness?_ Emre looked defeated and the line of his mouth had dropped and the sharp line of his clenched jaw has relaxed. 

"What's going on with you man," Loris asks dropping his hand. Emre turns away from him, but his eyes look glassy and Emre seemed worn out. 

"I need to shower," he says through gritted teeth, going back out into the locker room and collecting his shower bag as most of the lads start filtering into the showers.

The locker room is quiet as they dress. “Emre!” Loris calls as he catches the other man walking out of the locker room with his head down and his hood up. Emre walks right out the door, not even acknowledging him, "Em-," Loris sighs his voice trailing off.

"Lovers tiff," Studge snickers, making the rest of the lad's snigger. Loris ignores them as he hurriedly packs his bag up and quickly make his way out the door. The lads are always teasing them about dating, always throwing comments around 'like get a room' among other things, that they tuned out. It made Loris smile more than mad, it was funny; if only he knew where Emre stood. The man's steely expressions never changing, never giving anything anyway. 

Loris makes his way through Anfield and out towards the carpark. Emre's car is already gone. He lets out a breath into the warm summer air and feels his skin throb over the mark. He climbs into his car, making the decision to go home, because maybe Emre needed to cool off and be alone for a while. Loris knew he wouldn’t talk right now and going over would probably make it worse so he heads home and struggles to sleep as Emre's sad eyes sit behind his vision.

*

 **You alright** **Em** , Loris texts Emre before getting ready for training. It felt weird, Emre being mad at him and not having a clue about what happened or why he was upset. By the time he gets to training he still hasn’t a got a reply. Melwood is buzzing with a lot of people as post-match regeneration is in full swing. He dumps his stuff in the mostly empty locker room where he catches Hendo and Adam in an embrace. They were soulmates. They had soul-marks on their necks and no one blinked an eye when they became visible to the rest of the world.

"Sorry," he mutters to the pair, suddenly uneasy. They smile in embarrassment as Loris dumps his stuff in his locker before heading through the building to the canteen where he places his tray a little too harshly on the table next to Dejan who stares at him with bewilderment. 

"What's wrong with you?" Dejan asks after he swallows his bite of food.

"Nothing," Loris says sharply through chewing on cereal. He digs his head into the bowl, mostly pushing it around instead of eating it. 

"Yo Loris, what's up?" Dejan asks again.

"I'm good man," he mumbles lifting his head a little. "You seen Emre?" he asks, still staring into the bowl. 

"No not yet. Why? You two ok?"

"Yeah. Fine. Why?" 

"You both seemed a little wound up man," Dejan supplies. He's finished eating so he pushes the tray and rests his chin on his hands.

"No, we didn’t," Loris says getting up and walking away, barely finishing his breakfast. He changes into his training gear, wraps tape around his hands and heads out to the pitch.

There's still no reply from Emre. 

Working on the pitch focuses his mind on other things, most of the lads are working with a physio but Loris skipped out on that which he's going to regret, he figures he'll head there later. The grounds are quiet and he likes working outside with just the ball and some equipment to aid him. 

The rest of the day is spent with a physio, getting lunch and playing darts with Joel and Simon while Alberto and Roberto make on racket on the ping pong table, exclaiming words that sound like profanities in Portuguese and Spanish alike. Nathaniel, Gini and Hendo are playing pool while Studge has a running commentary in the background as usual; telling Hendo he's got to do better as he lounges on the couch.

Loris throws a dart, the same time Emre walks into the room. 

"Yo Emre, want to play?" Clyney asks as he strides in, graceful as ever.  

Emre nods, taking a que. Loris throws another dart at the board, maybe a little too harshly, Emre lines up his que and knocks three balls in, in a row. Someone asks him how he's so good, he just smirks, smug and full of himself. 

Emre wins at pool, Roberto celebrates in triumph over the ping pong, Loris loses at darts. 

Emre still doesn’t talk to him as they walk out the building, ready to head home for the day. It's bugging him and it makes the mark throb because he's wanting again, and he can't stand the pain which is why barges into Emre's house.

"What the fuck Loris!" Emre yells when Loris storms into the kitchen.

"What do you mean what the fuck. Why the fuck are you ignoring me?!"  Loris yells back. It was the longest they'd spent without talking since they met.

"Because I fucking want to!" Emre screams back, "Your always in my fucking space, you're always asking me things, fucking leave me alone Loris, get out my house."

"The fuck is your problem Emre." 

"You, you’re my fucking problem, you and your fucking concern, and fucking asking me things, just-" 

"Sorry for being a good fucking friend!" Loris screams back

 Emre scoffs. 

"I don’t fucking get you, that’s your problem that I ask about you, tell you to fucking calm down over some irrelevant shit." Loris came over to talk to him and ask him what was upsetting him but Emre wouldn’t listen and Loris couldn’t understand what was going on.

"Just leave me alone," Emre says with his hands on the counter and his back bent.

"No, you're being an asshole." 

"Fucking leave then!" Emre screams at him again, clenching his fists where they were resting on the worktop

"So..... what? You don’t want to speak to me anymore, you don’t want to be friends? What do you want Emre?" Loris asks, voice calming down. He never thought Emre would get tired of him and wouldn’t want him around, so much so that he went to lengths to ignore him. 

"Yeah, I do, get out of my house!" Loris gulps, standing stock still and trying to blink back the tears as Emre pushes him towards the door. 

"Alright," Loris breathes, pushing Emre's hands away, "alright I'll stop talking to you but first you have to tell me why."

"I.....," Emre starts. He moves away from the counter, turning around and walking a couple paces away.

"What Emre?" Loris asks and the words sound garbled as Loris pushes them past the lump in his throat.

"I can't think, when you do that, when ask about me, when you know what I need before I do. I can't...." he pulls at the strands of his hair, "I don’t want to talk about this," Emre says.

"You never want to talk about anything Emre, all you ever do is fucking walk away. Are things going to be magically OK if you ignore them? Are your feelings going to make sense if you fucking push me away. Talking about shit isn't going end your life mate."

Emre doesn’t even move.

"You going turn around or do I have talk to your fucking back? Emre!" Loris gets angrier the more Emre ignores him and he finds himself storming forward and grabbing Emre by the arms and swinging him around. 

Emre doesn’t look at him either.

"You were upset yesterday. After the game. Was that because of me?" He asks, voice small and insecure. "Fucking talk to me Em!" Loris yells when he gets no response.

"I can't," Emre whispers to the tiled floor. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"You can," Loris tells him hands on the sides of his face. Emre puts his head down and Loris pulls him against his chest and brings his arms up around his back; cradling him. "Do you want me to back off?" he asks into the air of the kitchen. 

"No," Emre whispers voice cracking into the fabric of his t-shirt. He isn't hugging Loris back but he didn’t pull away when Loris pulled him close.  

"What do you want then?" 

"I don’t know."  

"You do," he says against Emre's hairline, with his heart pounding against his ribcage and blood flowing too fast. Emre moves away again but Loris puts his hands back on his face, "Whatever you want you can have," he says.  

"Stop it," Emre mutters with his eyes down.

"Why? If we both want this we can do it. What's the harm Emre. You trust me, right?"

Emre lets out a few tears, not saying what he wants too. "Things go to shit all the time," his voice cracks then, "What if this doesn’t work, nothing ever lasts," he hiccups. 

Loris' heart shatters a little, he's never seen Emre like this. Vulnerable and scared. Loris finds himself wanting to fix it, wanting to protect him, love him, tell him none of it matters. "Is that why you're upset?" Emre shrugs. "You need to stop worrying about things that haven't even happened yet Emre, besides it doesn’t matter, I just...i don’t care, 

"I don’t want a mark Emre, I don’t want the person attached to if it isn't you, it's just a mark Em. This," Loris says lifting his head, "This is what matters, knowing you, a fucking tattoo on my skin doesn’t mean shit ok. I don't care about the soulmates thing. I like you Emre, as a person and a friend and something more, if you want it. A mark doesn’t change any of it. Doesn’t make me you like you any less or any different.

"I don’t want you to want me because you have to, or because of some star aligned universe crap. I want you to want me because you want to Emre. That’s all I want and that's all that matters to me ok."

Loris finishes pressing their foreheads together. "We don’t have to do anything Emre, just-, this is enough for me." The muscles in Emre's back relax and he takes his hands out of his pockets, placing them on Loris' hips before he gives Loris a watery smile. "We'll be ok," Loris says, feeling Emre lean against him as they walk into the living room, cuddling up as a movie plays in the background.

"During the game I just- you calmed me down. I need yo-" his voice trails off. "I've never done this before. I've nev-, never felt like this." He speaks so softly. "I missed you in Russia and then I heard your voice, and everything felt better and you made me believe in myself Loris and it's just- I don’t understand it. I don’t know what I'm doing. I'm not good at this."

"Figured," Loris laughs against his hairline, pushing a hand under the cotton of his shirt and running a palm down his spine. "We'll figure it out ok," he breathes, feeling Emre sigh as he draws patterns on his skin, finally, calm, "No more freak outs. Just talk to me next time ok." Emre nods against his neck before he presses his lips against Loris' skin making Loris smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep a feelings chapter, tell me what you think, thanks for reading


	8. Lately I've been craving you more

Emre has his arms around Loris' shoulders. It's strange. Emre doesn’t really touch him if they're in public. It was different in the privacy of their home where they cuddled on the couch. They'd even shared the same bed. A handshake was as far as he would go and that was it but he has his arm resting around Loris' shoulder, his fingers resting on his neck while his thumb strokes over his pulse point. 

Its relaxing and Loris finds himself leaning back into it. They've in the VIP section of a club. Its dark and stuffy as they laugh about something Studge is saying but Loris can't keep up. He's hyper focused on Emre's arm and his hand as it settles his nerves and alights them at the same time. Lifting his glass, he takes a sip of coke, trying to refocus on the words people are saying but Emre moves his thumb further down his neck and slips his fingers under the collar of his t-shirt. 

None of them are drinking due to the early plane back tomorrow so Emre's actions can't be blamed on alcohol and they're celebrating a win against Bayern. They're both stuck to each other from shoulder to thigh and Loris can feel Emre's heat sinking into him, making his skin hotter. When Loris looks over at Emre he's got a lazy smile on his face, the corners turned up and his eyes sunken in and a little tired but he's mostly relaxed as the fingers of his other hand rest against his hip. He leans against Emre more, nudging against his shoulder, which gets Emre's attention making him turn his head slowly towards him. His movements are lethargic and easy when he smiles lazily at him. 

Loris' heart skips a beat. Emre nods his head at him in silent acknowledgement. Loris smiles back at him, taking a sip of his drink as Emre strokes over his shoulder making Loris slip his eyes close in content. Something shifts in Emre's eyes as they glaze over a little. Loris has to look away and clear his throat but he shoves his arm behind the small of Emre's back and up under his t-shirt to feel his skin. Emre leans back into him as his fingers slide over the left side of his hip. 

Emre takes a sip of his drink, his Adams apple bobbing as his gulps. Loris shifts in his seat focusing on anything but Emre and his body and his skin and his lazy smile. Danny sits next to him and talks to him about something Loris can't focus on but he nods his head and smiles and all he can feel is Emre's fingers moving up and resting against his neck. 

Danny puts a hand on his thigh as he talks. Loris looks at it and doesn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t mind being touched unlike Emre but it still felt weird. Emre's fingers move to the where neck meets his shoulder and digs his fingers in squeezing. Possessively. 

_O_ _h._ _oh_ _shit, was_ _E_ _mre_ _jealous?_ Loris turns his head towards him again. Emre's looking straight forward, feigning interest in whatever is being said but he has his jaw clenched together and he's not smiling anymore. Loris squeezes Emre's hip, digging his thumb into his hipbone. Emre's jaw relaxes a little so Loris looks back at Danny who's still talking. He smiles at him as he shifts closer to Emre.  Danny finishes and claps Loris on the thigh squeezing a little before he gets up and walks away.

"Jealous?" Loris whispers into the side of Emre's neck, so close his eyelashes flicker against Emre's jawline.  Emre presses his fingers in again and Loris gets his answer, making him laugh against Emre's ear. 

"I'm tired," Emre says against the rim of his glass. Loris is drawing patterns into his hip. Emre looks down at him where Loris is leaning against his shoulder.

"Let's go then," Loris says, putting his glass down on the table and getting up from the couch. He walks past the lads who shout their goodbyes and heads towards the back entrance, Emre following closely behind him. They wait in the alley while the cab comes, "Did it bother you?"' Loris asks leaning against the wall; the chill of the brick a relief on his skin. He means for it to be teasing but instead it edges on the side of serious. 

Emre is standing against the other wall, back flat against the brick, one foot crossed over the other with his hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes are on the ground before they dart up and look right at Loris, "yeah, it did," he says staring right at Loris and it doesn’t sound like a joke. 

"Why," Loris breathes, pushing further because he wants more. Nothing had happened since the confrontation at Emre's place but Loris is tired of wanting, tired of the throbbing and the need and he just wants more. Even if it is a little selfish.

Emre shrugs and Loris doesn’t know what he was expecting but it kind of sinks his heart. He's leaning off the wall to walk into Emre's space and put his hands on his skin and ask him again but the cab pulls up and Emre walks towards it throwing open the door and climbing in. Loris sighs and follows him. 

The cab ride is quiet and Loris' fingers are itching to touch but he shoves them into his pockets and flirts with Emre through his eyelashes and soft smiles before the cab pulls up outside the hotel. Emre pays as they stumble out and into the hotel and up the elevator towards their room. 

"Hmpfttt," Loris grunts as his back hits the wall. "What the fu-," he starts. He doesn’t finish his sentence because Emre moves right into his space, crowding him against the wall, trapping him there. 'What are yo-'

Emre pushes him again, huge hands on his chest holding him in place. He doesn’t say anything but he grins at Loris. Loris looks away from his face and down at the hands on his chest, veins bulging through tan skin as his long fingers dug into the soft cotton of Loris' t shirt. The heat of Emre's palms sinks through the cloth, warming his skin as Loris gets to urge to runs his fingers over the veins. With blind courage he brings his fingers up and skims the tips down the back of Emre's hands, feeling the green veins and his bones jutting through the thin skin. His fingers move slowly and lighting as they run up over Emre's knuckles. 

Emre shudders at that as his fingers curl into the fabric in a lose grip. Loris keeps skimming his fingertips up over his knuckles along his fingers, hooking a thumb over the curled digits and smoothing them out against the fabric again. He darts his eyes up to Emre's face and the other man has his tongue between his teeth, eyes glazed and focused on Loris' fingers. Loris runs his fingers back down over Emre's again, "Em," Loris breathes and it's like something breaks because then Emre is pushing him back further into the wall and knocking Loris' feet apart so he can step further into his space. 

Emre's forehead knocks against his own, his nose bumps into Loris', "Lori," he says, his name spoken in a breath, not words, against his lips. Loris' heart is pounding through his chest and his gut his twisting with want, "Lori," Emre says again and Loris finds his hand tightening around Emre's. Emre must take that as approval because his hips move forward against Loris' own, punching the breath out of his chest and knocking his head back against the wall. 

Emre moves the hand Loris doesn’t have in a deathly grip, from Loris' chest, and brings it up to his face. The heat of his palm makes Loris lean into his hand and then Emre swipes a thumb over his cheekbone, soft and slow and Loris thinks everything is moving at a glacier pace. From this close Emre's lashes look extra-long and when he blinks they cast a shadow under his eyes.  _Hes_ _beautiful._ The thumb moves over his cheekbone for what feels like a while and all Loris wants is to be kissed.

When Emre still doesn’t move forward to kiss him Loris brings one of his own hands to Emre's cheeks, tilts Emre heads until their eyes meets and when Loris smiles at him, slowly, Emre moves his thumb down and swipes it over his lips. Loris' slips into Emre's hair and his runs his fingers over his scalp as Emre moves forward slotting his lips against Loris' own.

Its closed mouth but Loris pushes his lips back until Emre pushes his tongue against his lips and into his mouth making Loris moan loudly as Emre thumps him back against the wall. Loris squeezes his fingers over Emre's again and Emre takes it as a cue to kiss the breath out of his lungs because he's licking into Loris' mouth and pulling noises from Loris' throat he didn’t know he could make. Emre's hips pummel further forward and Loris has to pull back for air because kissing Emre was breath-taking, (literally) and he damn well needed air to keep doing.

Emre doesn’t approve though as his teeth pull Loris' bottom lip between his own, impatience and desperation as his hands clawed with need. "Hhggnnnn," Loris moans, fingers tugging at the strands of Emre's hair, losing his self-control. Emre smiles at him when he lets go before he shoves his tongue back in Loris' mouth and the room fills with the sound of them moaning. Emre's hands move from his chest down to his hips and he grips them so tightly, it verges on the edge of painful and too hot as he digs his fingertips in. He kisses down over Loris' chin and his jawline, sucking as he goes, making his way down Loris' neck where he bites down. He sucks and licks and nips at the skin and Loris knows it's going to leave a mark tomorrow as he shakes against the door head titled back and fingers yanking at Emre's hair. "Emre, Emre. Shit," he pants, breathless and needy.

Emre moves away from his neck, kissing all the way back up his jawline, and biting at Loris' lips again, "Hmmmmm," he asks. And he looks smug, like he's pleased that he's left Loris a straining mess against the wall, if Loris had the strength he would shove him away but instead he finds that kissing the smugness off Emre's face works just as well; maybe even better. Emre moves his hips again and Loris gets dizzy from how hard he is as he lets out a strangled groan. 

Loris tugs at Emre's t-shirt, pulling it over his head and running his fingers down over the expanse of his skin, over the lines of his chest and his abs before running a thumb over a nipple making Emre shudder. Loris giggles at that before Emre yanks his own shirt over his head, pushing him back into the wall as he slides his palms down the sides of his ribs over his hips before he stills. The expression in Emre's eyes changes, "Wha-," Loris starts as Emre just stares at his chest fixated, "Emre, come on, I'm-." Emre's fingers reaching out and tracing over his skin in a 23 makes Loris' breath leave his body for a third time tonight, "You can see it?" he asks breathless and giddy and high. 

Emre looks up him and the look in his eyes is enough to make Loris want to kiss him for the rest of his life until the anxiousness that Emre doesn’t have his mark on his own skin settles in. Emre must sense it because he shoves the waistline of his pants down and reveals a swallow with a number one adorning his left hip. "Fuck," Loris says reaching out, this is all he wanted. It's been over a year and now it’s 2;15 in the morning and he's got the man he was in love with and simultaneously his soulmate. 

Nothing has ever felt better.

That’s until Emre shoves him back against the wall, and he must have a thing with Loris against the wall because he won't let Loris move from it even an inch, before he kisses him again, all teeth and tongue as he slides his hands over Loris' back. Loris hooks one leg up over Emre's hips trying to get more friction before Emre uses his strength and hauls Loris' back further up the wall hitching both of Loris' legs around his waist. Loris laughs against his lips, tugging at them as Emre tugs his own pants down having shoved Loris' down before he hitched him up. 

Emre starts rubbing against him before he spits into his hand and takes both their cocks in his hand. Loris leans his head forward into Emre's neck and sucks down over the skin and onto his collarbone as Emre runs his fingers over their cocks, huge palm stroking them both. Emre's hand slides up his back to the nape of Loris's neck and into his sweat soaked his hair, tugging at the strands to pull Loris' head to pull him back from his neck. Emre's fingers slide up the back of his head, one hand resting on the small of his back, as he puts his tongue back in Loris mouth, stroking them faster. 

Loris comes with a groan of Emre's name. body quivering and sparks shoot up his spine as he digs his teeth in his bottom lip and Emre slumps his forehead against his shoulder blade grunting, "Lori," as he shudders. They both pant into the silence of the room, neither of them moving an inch. Loris strokes his fingers over Emre's nape making the other man lift his head. They both chuckle as Emre eases Loris back down to his feet, a hand on his hip to keep him steady as he wipes his fingers off on a t shirt. Loris groans as feet hit the ground and the muscles of his hips and thighs strain. Emre giggles at him, cute smile on his lips and light in his eyes, "This is your fault," Loris tells him, giggling too. 

"Is it?" Emre asks, teasing, pulling him away from the door and towards the bed where he pushes Loris against the sheets. Loris really thinks he has a thing with shoving him against things, not that he minds. It was hot. Emre kneeling over his him, thighs on either side of his hips was even hotter though. Loris watches him as he reaches out and traces his fingers over the soul-mark again and its almost possessive as he goes over the mark a few times until Loris snags his wrist meeting his eyes. Loris smiles at him, small before tugging Emre forward and down against his chest. Emre places his face in the crook of Loris' neck like it was made to fit there. Like puzzle pieces slotting together.

Loris runs his fingers down the planes of Emre's back, all skin that’s his to touch. Laying here, like this, he realises how happy he is, as he feels Emre's breath on his neck, his feet on his shins and his palm covering the soul-mark on his chest as he chest raised and fell on top of Loris' own. "We should have done this sooner," Emre says into his neck, voice muffled. Loris can feel his eyelashes fluttering against his skin and his makes his heart swoop.

Loris doesn’t reply for a long while, the feel of Emre's skin and his breathing soothing him. "I know," he whispers, "Guess I was scared to know the truth." His brings his palm down to rest over Emre's hip, thumb moving slowly over the bone and the mark, before he says, "I'm glad it's you Emre," into his hairline. Its not quite I love you but it'll do for now.

Emre splays his fingers out on his chest, "Me too. I didn’t want them if it wasn’t you," Emre tells him into the darkness his eyes slipping closed and breathing slowing down. Loris runs the fingers of his other hand over Emre's and places a kiss on his forehead, tugging Emre impossibly closer as he drifts off to sleep.

*

This is the second time they’ve woken up together and this time its skin to skin with the addition of kisses. Neither of them had moved all night so Loris awakens to Emre stretching against his body, before he throws a leg over his hip and pushes his hands into the pillows behind Loris' head. 

"Hi" he smiles two inches away from Loris' face. He's on top of Loris with bed hair, and sleepy eyes and super soft skin and the sight blows his mind because this is all his forever. He knows he'll never get tired of it as he brings his palms up and places them on Emre's chest.

"Hi" Loris breathes back at him, grin splitting his face. Seeing the soft smile on Emre's features is pulling at his heart so he lifts up and kisses the space where his neck meets his chest.

"Not going to give me a proper kiss?" 

"You can brush your teeth first," Loris tells him putting his head back on the pillows. 

"Urgh so fussy," Emre scoffs playfully, smile never leaving his face as he stares down at Loris. 'I want a kiss," he declares leaning down and kissing Loris' jawline. He trails down Loris' body leaving feather kisses across his chest, tongue dancing over his skin as he goes. Emre looks at Loris through his lashes, with his chin resting on Loris' navel. Loris puts a hand on his cheek pulling him back up his body. Emre leans in to try and kiss him again but Loris laughs, shoving him away, "Fine fine ok, I'm going." He pouts as he gets off the bed but there's a smile in his eyes that tells a different story. 

Loris brushes a hand through his hair as he watches Emre walk away, smiling to himself. This was his, all his, the doubt and anxiousness had fallen away replaced with Emre's skin and his heart and his hands. His face aches from smiling so much. 

Emre returns and Loris gets off the bed to brush his own teeth and shower and when he returns Emre is dressed and their stuff is packed ready to leave in an hour. "I still want that kiss," Emre says from where he's sat on the bed as Loris dresses.

"Do u now?" Loris teases. 

"Yeah."

"Oh well I don’t want to give you one." Loris says smiling, teasing Emre now had just gotten better. Loris wouldn’t kid himself though he couldn’t hold out on kissing Emre, ever. 

"Shut up." Emre says coming over to where he's stood and grabbing his hips. 'You promised me a kiss so I'm going to get a kiss ok," he says slipping his hands under Loris' t-shirt to feel his skin. 

"I never promised mate," Loris says an inch away from Emre's highly kissable lips and dammit he was losing that control again. Loris doesn’t think he's going to be able to deny Emre of anything from this point on. 

"Be quiet," Emre says pulling him forward and slotting their lips together, tongue entering his mouth. Loris kisses back with the same vigour and rawness; one hand sliding up Emre's back clutching to the fabric as the other dances at the back of the waistline of his pants. Emre's teeth scrape on his lips, leaving him a panting mess as Emre slides his hands further up his ribs and slips a leg between his own.

Loris pulls back, leaning his forward against Emre's, breathing too heavy, "We should-," he starts, gravely, "-head down" he says against Emre's lips, pecking at the corner lightly. They had to get breakfast and he was pretty sure they were late already, this was lighting the match for all the incoming teasing from the lads. Sharing a room _and_ late to breakfast. Loris couldn’t wait to hear this. 

Emre grunts in disapproval, unhappy that his tongue isn't in Loris' mouth and his hands aren't on skin he wants to touch but if they continue they're probably going to miss the plane let alone the couch, and well Loris doesn’t want to explain that he was having hot, 'I-just-found-my-soulmate' sex to twenty-two of his teammates and his boss while said soulmate stood by his side. He'd like to give that particular journey a miss, no matter how much he wanted to stand here and kiss Emre Can for the rest of the day. And his life. 

They are late to breakfast and the 'oooooo fun morning huh lads' comments from Studge as he snickers behind his hand, don’t go a miss. Emre's back to his steely expression as he gets some toast and a glass of orange juice as Loris says morning to Hendo and Adam. Emre brings him some cereal and an apple and Loris' heart takes another flip because this is his person and he's waited so long for it. Its normal for them but it means even more now as they share a secret smile while they eat.

And if Loris slips his fingers between Emre's own on the plane back with shouts of, 'OHMYGOD THEY’RE FINALLY TOGETHER!' from Sturridge as he hollers through the entire plane, while Emre squeezes his fingers back and leans his head against his shoulder while they watch a movie, well Loris will say he's never had anything better. 

Emre ignores the squealing from the lads, forever an expert. Apparently, they were the most talked about people at the club and there seemed to be some sort of bet going on. Loris caught Kloppo looking extremely smug as he collected money from some forlorn looking teammates. 

Loris giggled to himself,  _were we_ _that_ _bad?_ He tunes out all the cooing and shouting from an over excited Sturridge, (one would think that this had happened to him) and looks at Emre with a heart full of love. 

No amount of teasing could ever  ruin this  moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :DDDD,   
> sorry i made you wait so long, this story is coming to an end and i kinda dont want to let it go, i know its dumb but i just wanted to be mine for a little bit longer, but I'm ready to end it, there's one more chapter and then we're done :')  
> thanks for reading


	9. Epilogue; Toujours dans mon coeur

"You fools finally got it together huh," Studge says in the locker room. They have a game tonight. Champions league qualifier that was weighing heavy on all of them but apparently Loris and Emre's love life was at the fore front of their minds. 

Emre looks across the room at Loris who smiles, light radiating from his eyes as he says, "yeah I guess." Emre doesn’t know how he puts with them, he himself was pretty skilled at tuning out almost everything. They had a game to win, his love life could stay private thank you very much, no matter how much Studge thought this was his to know. 

"Took you over a year," Sturridge says, "I mean I know some people don’t want to jump into things and want to take things slow yeah, but a year? You two actually waited a whole year?" he says as leans back against his locker.  _Does he care that where playing in an hour? "_ I can't believe you waited so long," he says like them not being together somehow had an inconvenience on his life. 

"Yeah I don’t know we just-," Loris says wringing his hands. Emre learnt it was a nervous tick

"Don’t you have anything else to talk about?" he pipes up, throwing shin pads in Sturridge's direction which bounce of his chest and onto the floor. He doesn’t even care as he leans there all nonchalant and chill. 

"Nope," Studge says, "We had to watch the endless flirting and the painful lust. I mean you two wanted to get in each other's pants from the moment you met, and we had to watch it. All those fucking looks and inside jokes and shoving each other? What's up with that? If we had to watch it painfully for over a year we're going to talk about it ok."

Emre sighs. The game couldn’t come sooner in his opinion. His eyes meet Loris' and he's blushing, red high on his cheeks. "We weren't that bad," Loris says.

"You were," Ingsy says, as the rest of the lads nod their agreement. If there wasn’t a very important match right now Emre would have booked himself a plane to anyway that didn’t have annoying teammates talking about his love life. "It was constant flirting all the time, and you couldn’t get it together enough to even figure out that you were soulmates."

"We knew," Loris says, "Well we had marks but how does anyone know who they belong too" 

"That's why people talk to each other, you know that thing people do with their mouths." That’s Studge again.

"How can we forget when you lot never shut up," Emre says snarkily.

"Ha. Ha," Ingsy says continuing with, "You do know that normal people mention these things right, that they talk. How did you even get together you're both so emotionally constipated." 

"We can be together without a mark," Emre says "It isn't the rules." Emre really didn't care for a mark on his skin he cared for Loris and everything that came with that which by  _extension_  was a soulmate mark. But if it didn't Emre didn't care because he loved Loris for the person he was not the concept that there was a perfect someone supposedly waiting for him. He loves Loris no matter if the universe thought they were perfect for it each other or not. Loris was his regardless and that's all that matters

"Yeah but you just seemed like you were meant to be together," Adam says as the others hum their agreement _. How many hours had they spent gossiping about them?_

"Wait what mark do you have?" Studge asks and Emre wonders if he understands the concept of privacy.

"Ok we're not talking about this anymore," Emre says, "We have a game remember." 

"I want to know," Studge whines.

"None of your business." Emre says switching the music on and turning the volume all the way up. That gets them to shut up as they start getting ready for the game. As they head out to the tunnel, Emre pulls Loris back at the doorway of the empty locker room. He places a hand on Loris' nape, as he leans their foreheads together. He closes his eyes and whispers, "We're going to win this yeah." Loris smiles at him, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek before butting his forehead once more against Emre's, squeezing a gloved hand over his hip before they head out to line up. 

*

A light breeze sways the flags in the stands, the floodlights are shining bright. European nights almost here, in the grasp of their fingertips. The movement and noise from the stands reverberates onto the pitch, sending energy through the grass and hope through their hearts. They can have this, it's all in their favour, every single second counts, every move, every touch, every breath. 

The crowd doesn’t stop singing, want high in the air, need stronger than ever. The first touch of the ball makes the crowd louder. They pass back and forth tirelessly until Emre has the ball at his feet, shooting on instinct. When the net sways from the force of his shot he's running to the corner flag, knee sliding in elation and ecstasy, happiness written all over his features a cheeky head nod to the supporters. The lads yelling their pride at him. 

The game continues and the crowd gets louder as Salah scores the second, dinks it in to cheers and celebratory hugs, walking past defeated faces of the opposition. Emre scores his second goal of the night, team work on fire as he shoots the ball; doesn’t think when he does it just find his legs moving, running, running down the pitch to the other goalpost. He doesn’t think at all when he jumps up into Loris' arms, screaming into the man's ear, a smile wider than the sea. His legs just carry him into the arms of the man he loves, to the only person he wants to share this joy with. Loris catches him and Emre has no doubt that he wouldn’t, no doubt that Loris would always be there, a pillar to lean on, always with open arms. His thighs wrap around Loris' waist, tight, holding on, not caring where they are, not right now and when Loris catches him his hands end up on his back and he's screaming too as Emre finds himself being squeezed in a hug.

He can't take in the words Loris is saying, the fans are drowning everything out, the noise is immense, the lights are blinding and he pulls back a little, Loris is smiling, a huge fucking smile, the one that causes his eyes to wrinkle up and crease, his mouth parted revealing perfectly straight teeth. The look in Loris' eyes blinds him, its prideful and happy, and full of... _.love._

His own face splits in a smile, he thought the confeds was the happiest he's ever been, he was wrong. With his legs around Loris' waist, seeing Loris smile like Emre himself hung the moon, he finds himself leaning his forehead against Loris' sweaty one, hair askew and falling forward but he looks so beautiful, Emre finds it hard to breathe. 

Loris ruffles his hair when he unwraps his legs from around his waist, beaming at him with a huge smile as Emre walks back to the centre circle with a huge smile of his own. 

*

They finish the game qualified for Europe. They party for hours in the locker room afterwards until Emre pulls Loris away from the rowdiness and through the empty corridors of Anfield. 

“You kidnapping me or something?” Loris asks following behind Emre up countless flights of stairs. 

“Pfftttt, if I was going to kidnap someone I'd choose someone less annoying than you, you’re not worth the headache.”

“I’m offended,” Loris counters. “Seriously Em why are we climbing all these stairs?”

Emre doesn’t respond that time, silently making his way to the top of the stairs before opening a door for Loris. When he steps out he’s overlooking the entirety of Anfield; Loris gapes at the sight. It was beautiful, he’d never seen it like this in all its glory, under the starlight. A few of the floodlights were still on casting a soft light over the pitch and the stands. Loris turns back and looks Emre sharing a small smile with him before he steps forward and buts his shoulder against Loris’ own. 

Loris sits down between the railings, swinging his legs against the back of a plastic chair below him, he reaches up and pulls Emre down too. “It’s peaceful,” Loris says taking in the sight, the calmness of a stadium that’s he’s only ever seen flowing with people and noise, he didn’t know it could be this quiet. Even empty it felt full, of singing and love, of happiness. It looks magical. He doesn’t think he’d ever tire of the sight. 

“Did you bring me all the way up here to push me off?” Loris asks, nudging against Emre who’s gazing across the pitch, where he just scored a brace. A place they both call home.

Emre looks at him then, “Maybe.”

“Asshole,” Loris laughs with his head thrown back.

"I love you Loris Karius." Loris stops laughing immediately. He sits stock still for a whole minute before he shifts his gaze to Emre who’s biting his lip and wringing his hands, he looks more nervous than Loris had ever seen him. Loris smiles at him so widely he thinks his face is going to split. 

He puts a hand on Emre’s nape, pulling him closer to lean their foreheads together before he says,“I love you too Emre Can,” right against his lips. Emre smiles at him shyly, nodding once and glancing down at the ground before his face splits in a grin.

They sit there for a few minutes just giggling, Loris runs his thumb over Emre’s cheekbone.  

“You’re so dumb,” Loris giggles before slotting their lips together and kissing Emre at the top of the Anfield, a place that held their dreams, while the whole world lay at their feet. Emre slots a hand into his hair, pulling him closer and kissing him harder. 

Everything falls away, the stadium, the game, life, everything, but Loris and Emre and the tingle under their skin from the soul-marks. 

_“Soulmates aren’t the ones who make you happiest, no. They’re instead the ones who make you feel the most. Burning edges and scars and stars. Old pains and pangs, captivation and beauty. Strain and shadows and worry and yearning. Sweetness and madness and dreamlike surrender. They hurl you into the abyss. They taste like hope.“_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been a long journey but its the end and im quite emotional because i never expected this story to get this much love, not for a ship this small. the love this got blew me away. everyone who left me a comment and was interested just shook me, this is my first big work and the fact that people read it and liked it and waited for updates means the world to me.  
> thank you so much for the love i really appreciate it.  
> im hoping to post a few more works in this series, even though the ship isn't exactly together anymore but this work is special to me and i dont want to give up on it just yet  
> thanks again for reading, ily all <3333
> 
> ((loris has the title of this chapter tattooed on his skin, thats where i got it from, it means always in my heart, this entire work started bc i wanted to write that scene about emre tracing his tats and it developed into this, and here we are 24k words later bc i googled loris' tats, wild))


End file.
